HAVOC 


. 


E.PHILUPS  OPPENHEBU 


HAVOC 


HAVOC 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 


Author   of    "The    Illustrious    Prince,"    "The    Lost 

Ambassador  "  "A  Prince  of  Sinners," 

"The  Missioner,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  HOWARD  CHANDLER  CHRISTY 


A  L.    BURT  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1910,  1911, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY". 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  October,  1911 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  CROWNED  HEADS  MEET 1 

II  ARTHUR  DORWARD'S  "Scoop" 12 

III  "OURS  is  A  STRANGE  COURTSHIP" 19 

IV  THE  NIGHT  TRAIN  FROM  VIENNA 24 

V  "VoN  BEHRLJNG  HAS  THE  PACKET" 31 

VI  VON  BEHRLING  is  TEMPTED 42 

VII  "WE  PLAY  FOR  GREAT  STAKES"  .......  48 

VIII  THE  HAND  OF  MISFORTUNE 54 

IX  ROBBING  THE  DEAD 59 

X  BELLAMY  is  OUTWITTED 67 

XI  VON  BEHRLING'S  FATE 75 

XII  BARON  DE  STREUSS'  PROPOSAL 84 

XIII  STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE 92 

XIV  ARTHUR  MORRISON'S  COLLAPSE 102 

XV  LAVERICK'S  PARTNER  FLEES 112 

XVI  THE  WAITER  AT  THE  "BLACK  POST"     ....  122 

XVII  THE  PRICE  OF  SILENCE 131 

XVIII  THE  LONELY  CHORUS  GIRL 135 

XIX  MYSTERIOUS  INQUIRIES 145 

XX  LAVERICK  is  CROSS  EXAMINED 154 

XXI  MADEMOISELLE  IDIALE'S  VISIT 166 

XXII  ACTIVITY  OF  AUSTRIAN  SPIES 176 

XXIII  LAVERICK  AT  THE  OPERA  185 


2137484 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV  A  SUPPER  PARTY  AT  LUIGI'S 194 

XXV  JIM  SHEPHERD'S  SCARE 203 

XXVI  THE  DOCUMENT  DISCOVERED 212 

XXVEI  PENETRATING  A  MYSTERY 220 

XXVIII  LAVERICK'S  NARROW  ESCAPE 232 

XXIX  LASSEN'S  TREACHERY  DISCOVERED    ....  244 

XXX  THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS 250 

XXXI  Miss  LENEVEU'S  MESSAGE 261 

XXXII  MORRISON  is  DESPERATE 271 

XXXIII  LAVERICK'S  ARREST 282 

XXXIV  MORRISON'S  DISCLOSURE 288 

XXXV  BELLAMY'S  SUCCESS 298 

XXXVI  LAVERICK  ACQUITTED 307 

XXXVII  THE  PLOT  THAT  FAILED 312 

XXXVIII  A  FAREWELL  APPEARANCE  .  320 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Laverick,  with  a  single  bound,  was  upon  his 

assailant Frontispiece 

"  Tell    me,    are   they    afraid    of    me,    your 

friends?11 Page       42 

There  was  no  doubt  about  her  beauty     .     .        "          160 

Zoe  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  small,  uncomfort- 
able easy-chair     .     .         ......        "         205 


HAVOC 

CHAPTER  I 

CROWNED    HEADS    MEET 

BELLAMY,  King's  Spy,  and  Dorward,  journalist,  known 
to  fame  in  every  English-speaking  country,  stood  before 
the  double  window  of  their  spacious  sitting-room,  look- 
ing down  upon  the  thoroughfare  beneath.  Both  men 
were  laboring  under  a  bitter  sense  of  failure.  Bellamy's 
face  was  dark  with  forebodings;  Dorward  was  irritated 
and  nervous.  Failure  was  a  new  thing  to  him  —  a  thing 
which  those  behind  the  great  journals  which  he  repre- 
sented understood  less,  even,  than  he.  JBellamy  loved 
his  country,  and  fear  was  gnawing  at  his  heart. 

Below,  the  crowds  which  had  been  waiting  patiently 
for  many  hours  broke  into  a  tumult  of  welcoming  voices. 
Down  their  thickly-packed  lines  the  volume  of  sound 
arose  and  grew,  a  faint  murmur  at  first,  swelling  and 
growing  to  a  thunderous  roar.  Myriads  of  hats  were  sud- 
denly torn  from  the  heads  of  the  excited  multitude,  hand- 
kerchiefs waved  from  every  window.  It  was  a  wonderful 
greeting,  this. 

"  The  Czar  on  his  way  to  the  railway  station,"  Bellamy 
remarked. 

The  broad  avenue  was  suddenly  thronged  with  a  mass 
of  soldiery  —  guardsmen  of  the  most  famous  of  Austrian 
regiments,  brilliant  in  their  white  uniforms,  their  flashing 
helmets.  The  small  brougham  with  its  great  black 


2  HAVOC 

horses  was  almost  hidden  within  a  ring  of  naked  steel. 
Dorward,  an  American  to  the  backbone  and  a  bitter 
democrat,  thrust  out  his  under-lip. 

"The  Anointed  of  the  Lord  !"  he  muttered. 

Far  away  from  some  other  quarter  came  the  same  roar 
of  voices,  muffled  yet  insistent,  charged  with  that  faint, 
exciting  timbre  which  seems  always  to  live  in  the  cry  of 
the  multitude. 

"The  Emperor,"  declared  Bellamy.  "He  goes  to  the 
West  station." 

The  commotion  had  passed.  The  crowds  in  the  street 
below  were  on  the  move,  melting  away  now  with  a  muffled 
trampling  of  feet  and  a  murmur  of  voices.  The  two  men 
turned  from  their  window  back  into  the  room.  Dorward 
commenced  to  roll  a  cigarette  with  yellow-stained,  ner- 
vous fingers,  while  Bellamy  threw  himself  into  an  easy- 
chair  with  a  gesture  of  depression. 

"So  it  is  over,  this  long-talked-of  meeting,"  he  said, 
half  to  himself,  half  to  Dorward.  "  It  is  over,  and  Europe 
is  left  to  wonder." 

"They  were  together  for  scarcely  more  than  an  hour," 
Dorward  murmured. 

"Long  enough,"  Bellamy  answered.  "That  little  room 
in  the  Palace,  my  friend,  may  yet  become  famous." 

"If  you  and  I  could  buy  its  secrets,"  Dorward  re- 
marked, finally  shaping  a  cigarette  and  lighting  it,  "we 
should  be  big  bidders,  I  think.  I'd  give  fifty  thousand 
dollars  myself  to  be  able  to  cable  even  a  hundred  words 
of  their  conversation." 

"For  the  truth,"  Bellamy  said,  "the  whole  truth,  there 
could  be  no  price  sufficient.  We  made  our  effort  in  differ- 
ent directions,  both  of  us.  With  infinite  pains  I  planted  — 
I  may  tell  you  this  now  that  the  thing  is  over  —  seven 


CROWNED    HEADS    MEET  3 

spies  in  the  Palace.  They  have  been  of  as  much  use  as 
rabbits.  I  don't  believe  that  a  single  one  of  them  got  any 
further  than  the  kitchens." 

Dorward  nodded  gloomily. 

"  I  guess  they  were  n't  taking  any  chances  up  there," 
he  remarked.  "There  wasn't  a  secretary  in  the  room. 
Carstairs  was  nearly  thrown  out,  and  he  had  a  permit  to 
enter  the  Palace.  The  great  staircase  was  held  with 
soldiers,  and  Dick  swore  that  there  were  Maxims  in  the 
corridors." 

Bellamy  sighed. 

"We  shall  hear  the  roar  of  bigger  guns  before  we  are 
many  months  older,  Dorward,"  he  declared. 

The  journalist  glanced  at  his  friend  keenly. 

"You  believe  that?" 

Bellamy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Do  you  suppose  that  this  meeting  is  for  nothing?" 
he  asked.  "When  Austria,  Germany  and  Russia  stand 
whispering  in  a  corner,  can't  you  believe  it  is  across  the 
North  Sea  that  they  point?  Things  have  been  shaping 
that  way  for  years,  and  the  time  is  almost  ripe." 

"  You  English  are  too  nervous  to  live,  nowadays,"  Dor- 
ward  declared  impatiently.  "  I  'd  just  like  to  know  what 
they  said  about  America." 

Bellamy  smiled  with  faint  but  delicate  irony. 

"Without  a  doubt,  the  Prince  will  tell  you,"  he  said. 
"He  can  scarcely  do  more  to  show  his  regard  for  your 
country.  He  is  giving  you  a  special  interview  —  you 
alone  out  of  about  two  hundred  journalists.  Very  likely 
he  will  give  you  an  exact  account  of  everything  that 
transpired.  First  of  all,  he  will  assure  you  that  this 
meeting  has  been  brought  about  in  the  interests  of  peace. 
He  will  tell  you  that  the  welfare  of  your  dear  country  is 


4  HAVOC 

foremost  in  the  thoughts  of  his  master.  He  will  assure 
you  — "' 

"Say,  you're  jealous,  my  friend,"  Dorward  inter- 
rupted calmly.  "I  wonder  what  you'd  give  me  for  my 
ten  minutes  alone  with  the  Chancellor,  eh  ? " 

"If  he  told  me  the  truth,"  Bellamy  asserted,  "I'd  give 
my  life  for  it.  For  the  sort  of  stuff  you're  going  to  hear, 
I'd  give  nothing.  Can't  you  realize  that  for  yourself, 
Dorward  ?  You  .know  the  man  —  false  as  Hell  but  with 
the  tongue  of  a  serpent.  He  will  grasp  your  hand;  he 
will  declare  himself  glad  to  speak  through  you  to  the  great 
Anglo-Saxon  races  —  to  England  and  to  his  dear  friends 
the  Americans.  He  is  only  too  pleased  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  expressing  himself  candidly  and  openly.  Peace 
is  to  be  the  watchword  of  the  future.  The  white  doves 
have  hovered  over  the  Palace.  The  rulers  of  the  earth 
have  met  that  the  crash  of  arms  may  be  stilled  and  that 
this  terrible  unrest  which  broods  over  Europe  shall  finally 
be  broken  up.  They  have  pledged  themselves  hand  in 
hand  to  work  together  for  this  object,  —  Russia,  broken 
and  humiliated,  but  with  an  immense  army  still  available, 
whose  only  chance  of  holding  her  place  among  the 
nations  is  another  and  a  successful  war;  Austria,  on  fire 
for  the  seaboard  —  Austria,  to  whom  war  would  give  the 
desire  of  her  existence;  Germany,  with  Bismarck's  last 
but  secret  words  written  in  letters  of  fire  on  the  walls  of 
her  palaces,  in  the  hearts  of  her  rulers,  in  the  brain  of  her 
great  Emperor.  Colonies !  Expansion !  Empire !  Whose 
colonies,  I  wonder?  Whose  empire?  Will  he  tell  you 
that,  my  friend  Dorward?" 

The  journalist  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  glanced  at 
the  clock. 

"I  guess  he'll  tell  me  what  he  chooses  and  I  shall 


CROWNED    HEADS    MEET  5 

print  it,"  he  answered  indifferently.  "It's  all  part  of 
the  game,  of  course.  I  am  not  exactly  chicken  enough  to 
expect  the  truth.  All  the  same,  my  message  will  come 
from  the  lips  of  the  Chancellor  immediately  after  this 
wonderful  meeting." 

"He  makes  use  of  you,"  Bellamy  declared,  "to  throw 
dust  into  our  eyes  and  yours." 

"Even  so,"  Dorward  admitted,  "I  don't  care  so  long 
as  I  get  the  copy.  It's  good-bye,  I  suppose?" 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"I  shall  go  on  to  Berlin,  perhaps,  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"I  can  do  no  more  good  here.  And  you?" 

"After  I've  sent  my  cable  I'm  off  to  Belgrade  for  a 
week,  at  any  rate,"  Dorward  answered.  "I  hear  the 
women  are  forming  rifle  clubs  all  through  Servia." 

Bellamy  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"I  know  one  who'll  want  a  place  among  the  leaders," 
he  murmured. 

"Mademoiselle  Idiale,  I  suppose?" 

Bellamy  assented. 

"It's  a  queer  position  hers,  if  you  like,"  he  said.  "All 
Vienna  raves  about  her.  They  throng  the  Opera  House 
every  night  to  hear  her  sing,  and  they  pay  her  the  biggest 
salary  which  has  ever  been  known  here.  Three  parts  of 
it  she  sends  to  Belgrade  to  the  Chief  of  the  Committee 
for  National  Defence.  The  jewels  that  are  sent  her 
anonymously  go  to  the  same  place,  all  to  buy  arms  to 
fight  these  people  who  worship  her.  I  tell  you,  Dor- 
ward,"  he  added,  rising  to  his  feet  and  walking  to  the 
window,  "the  patriotism  of  these  people  is  something  we 
colder  races  scarcely  understand.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
we  have  never  dwelt  under  the  shadow  of  a  conqueror. 
If  ever  Austria  is  given  a  free  hand,  it  will  be  no  mere 


6  HAVOC 

war  upon  which  she  enters,  —  it  will  be  a  carnage,  an 
extermination ! " 

Dorward  looked  once  more  at  the  clock  and  rose  slowly 
to  his  feet. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  must  n't  keep  His  Excellency 
waiting.  Good-bye,  and  cheer  up,  Bellamy !  Your  old 
country  is  n't  going  to  turn  up  her  heels  yet." 

Out  he  went  —  long,  lank,  uncouth,  with  yellow- 
stained  fingers  and  hatchet-shaped,  gray  face  —  a  strange 
figure  but  yet  a  power.  Bellamy  remained.  For  a  while 
he  seemed  doubtful  how  to  pass  the  time.  He  stood  in 
front  of  the  window,  watching  the  dispersal  of  the  crowds 
and  the  marching  by  of  a  regiment  of  soldiers,  whose 
movements  he  followed  with  critical  interest,  for  he,  too, 
had  been  in  the  service.  He  had  still  a  military  bearing, 
—  tall,  and  with  complexion  inclined  to  be  dusky,  a  small 
black  moustache,  dark  eyes,  a  silent  mouth,  —  a  man  of 
many  reserves.  Even  his  intimates  knew  little  of  him. 
Nevertheless,  his  was  the  reticence  which  befitted  well 
his  profession. 

After  a  time  he  sat  down  and  wrote  some  letters.  He 
had  just  finished  when  there  came  a  sharp  tap  at  the  door. 
Before  he  could  open  his  lips  some  one  had  entered.  He 
heard  the  soft  swirl  of  draperies  and  turned  sharply 
round,  then  sprang  to  his  feet  and  held  out  both  his 
hands.  There  was  expression  in  his  face  now  —  as  much 
as  he  ever  suffered  to  appear  there. 

"Louise!"  he  exclaimed.     " What  good  fortune !" 

She  held  his  fingers  for  a  moment  in  a  manner  which 
betokened  a  more  than  common  intimacy.  Then  she 
threw  herself  into  an  easy-chair  and  raised  her  thick  veil. 
Bellamy  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  sorrowful  silence. 
There  were  violet  lines  underneath  her  beautiful  eyes, 


CROWNED    HEADS    MEET  7 

her  cheeks  were  destitute  of  any  color.  There  was  an 
abandonment  of  grief  about  her  attitude  which  moved 
him.  She  sat  as  one  broken-spirited,  in  whom  the  power 
of  resistance  was  dead. 

"It  is  over,  then,"  she  said  softly,  "this  meeting.  The 
word  has  been  spoken." 

He  came  and  stood  by  her  side. 

''As  yet,"  he  reminded  her,  "we  do  not  know  what 
that  word  may  be." 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

''Who  can  doubt?"  she  exclaimed.  "For  myself,  I 
feel  it  in  the  air !  I  can  see  it  in  the  faces  of  the  people 
who  throng  the  city !  I  can  hear  it  in  the  peals  of  those 
awful  bells !  You  know  nothing  ?  You  have  heard 
nothing?" 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"I  did  all  that  was  humanly  possible,"  he  said,  drop- 
ping his  voice.  "An  Englishman  in  Vienna  to-day  has 
very  little  opportunity.  I  filled  the  Palace  with  spies,  but 
they  had  n't  a  dog's  chance.  There  was  n't  even  a  sec- 
retary present.  The  Czar,  the  two  Emperors  and  the 
Chancellor,  —  not  another  soul  was  in  the  room." 

"  If  only  Von  Behrling  had  been  taken  !"  she  exclaimed. 
"He  was  there  in  reserve,  I  know,  as  stenographer.  I 
have  but  to  lift  my  hand  and  it  is  enough.  I  would  have 
had  the  truth  from  him,  whatever  it  cost  me." 

Bellamy  looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  It  was  not  for 
nothing  that  the  Press  of  every  European  nation  had 
called  her  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world.  He 
frowned  slightly  at  her  last  words,  for  he  loved  her. 

"  Von  Behrling  was  not  even  allowed  to  cross  the  thresh- 
old," he  said  sharply. 

She  moved  her  head  and  looked  up  at  him.     She  was 


8  HAVOC 

leaning  a  little  forward  now,  her  chin  resting  upon  her 
hands.  Something  about  the  lines  of  her  long,  supple 
body  suggested  to  him  the  savage  animal  crouching  for 
a  spring.  She  was  quiet,  but  her  bosom  was  heaving, 
and  he  could  guess  at  the  passion  within.  With  purpose 
he  spoke  to  set  it  loose. 

"You  sing  to-night?"  he  asked. 

"Before  God,  no!"  she  answered,  the  anger  blazing 
out  of  her  eyes,  shaking  in  her  voice.  "  I  sing  no  more  in 
this  accursed  city!" 

"There  will  be  a  revolution,"  Bellamy  remarked.  "I 
see  that  the  whole  city  is  placarded  with  notices.  It  is  to 
be  a  gala  night  at  the  Opera.  The  royal  party  is  to  be 
present." 

Her  body  seemed  to  quiver  like  a  tree  shaken  by  the 
wind. 

"  What  do  I  care  —  I  —  I  —  for  their  gala  night !  If 
I  were  like  Samson,  if  I  could  pull  down  the  pillars  of 
their  Opera  House  and  bury  them  all  in  its  ruins,  I  would 
doit!" 

He  took  her  hand  and  smoothed  it  in  his. 

"Dear  Louise,  it  is  useless,  this.  You  do  everything 
that  can  be  done  for  your  country." 

Her  eyes  were  streaming  and  her  fingers  sought  his. 

"My  friend  David,"  she  said,  "you  do  not  understand. 
None  of  you  English  yet  can  understand  what  it  is  to 
crouch  in  the  shadow  of  this  black  fear,  to  feel  a  tyrant's 
hand  come  creeping  out,  to  know  that  your  life-blood  and 
the  life-blood  of  all  your  people  must  be  shed,  and  shed  in 
vain.  To  rob  a  nation  of  their  liberty,  ah !  it  is  worse, 
this,  than  murder,  —  a  worse  crime  than  his  who  stains 
the  soul  of  a  poor  innocent  girl !  It  is  a  sin  against  nature 
herself!" 


CROWNED    HEADS    MEET  9 

She  was  sobbing  now,  and  she  c  utched  his  hands 
passionately. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  murmured,  "I  am  overwrought.  I 
have  borne  up  against  this  thing  so  long.  I  can  do  no 
more  good  here.  I  come  to  tell  you  that  I  go  away  till  the 
time  comes.  I  go  to  your  London.  They  want  me  to 
sing  for  them  there.  I  shall  do  it." 

"You  will  break  your  engagement?" 

She  laughed  at  him  scornfully. 

"I  am  Idiale,"  she  declared.  "I  keep  no  engagement 
if  I  do  not  choose.  I  will  sing  ho  more  to  this  people 
whom  I  hate.  My  friend  David,  I  have  suffered  enough. 
Their  applause  I  loathe  —  their  covetous  eyes  as  they 
watch  me  move  about  the  stage  —  oh,  I  could  strike 
them  all  dead !  They  come  to  me,  these  young  Austrian 
noblemen,  as  though  I  were  already  one  of  a  conquered 
race.  I  keep  their  diamonds  but  I  destroy  their  messages. 
Their  jewels  go  to  my  chorus  girls  or  to  arm  my  people. 
But  no  one  of  them  has  had  a  kind  word  from  me  save 
where  there  has  been  something  to  be  gained.  Even  Von 
Behrling  I  have  fooled  with  promises.  No  Austrian 
shall  ever  touch  my  lips  —  I  have  sworn  it!" 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Yes,"  he  assented,  "they  call  you  cold  here  in  the 
capital !  Even  in  the  Palace  — " 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"It  is  finished!"  she  declared.  "I  sing  no  more.  I 
have  sent  word  to  the  Opera  House.  I  came  here  to  be 
in  hiding  for  a  while.  They  will  search  for  me  everywhere. 
To-night  or  to-morrow  I  leave  for  England." 

Bellamy  stood  thoughtfully  silent. 

"I  am  not  sure  that  you  are  wise,"  he  said.  "You  take 
it  too  much  for  granted  that  the  end  has  come.** 


io  HAVOC 

"And  do  you  not  yourself  believe  it?"  she  demanded. 

He  hesitated. 

"As  yet  there  is  no  proof,"  he  reminded  her. 

"Proof!" 

She  sat  upright  in  her  chair.  Her  hands  thrust  him 
from  her,  her  bosom  heaved,  a  spot  of  color  flared  in  her 
cheeks. 

"Proof!"  she  cried.  "What  do  you  suppose,  then, 
that  these  wolves  have  plotted  for?  What  else  do  you 
suppose  could  be  Austria's  share  of  the  feast  ?  Could  n't 
you  hear  our  fate  in  the  thunder  of  their  voices  when  that 
miserable  monarch  rode  back  to  his  captivity?  We  are 
doomed  —  betrayed !  You  remember  the  Massacre  of 
St.  Bartholomew,  a  blood-stained  page  of  history  for  all 
time.  The  world  would  tell  you  that  we  have  outlived 
the  age  ol  such  barbarous  doings.  It  is  not  true.  My 
friend  David,  it  is  not  true.  It  is  a  more  terrible  thing, 
this  which  is  coming.  Body  and  soul  we  are  to  perish." 

He  came  over  to  her  side  once  more  and  laid  his  hand 
soothingly  on  hers.  It  was  heart-rending  to  witness  the 
agony  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

"Dear  Louise,"  he  said,  "after  all,  this  is  profitless. 
There  may  yet  be  compromises." 

She  suffered  her  hand  to  remain  in  his,  but  the  bitter- 
ness did  not  pass  out  of  her  face  or  tone. 

"Compromises!"  she  repeated.  "Do  you  believe, 
then,  that  we  are  like  those  ancient  races  who  felt  the 
presence  of  a  conqueror  because  their  hosts  were  scat- 
tered in  battle,  and  who  suffered  themselves  passively  to 
be  led  into  captivity?  My  country  can  be  conquered  in 
one  way,  and  one  way  only,  —  not  until  her  sons,  ay, 
and  her  daughters  too,  have  perished,  can  these  people 
rule.  They  will  come  to  an  empty  and  a  stricken  country 


II 


—  a  country  red  with  blood,  desolate,  with  blackened 
houses  and  empty  cities.  The  horror  of  it !  Think,  my 
friend  David,  the  horror  of  it ! " 

Bellamy  threw  his  head  back  with  a  sudden  gesture  of 
impatience. 

"  You  take  too  much  for  granted,"  he  declared.  "  Eng- 
land, at  any  rate,  is  not  yet  a  conquered  race.  And  there 
is  France  —  Italy,  too,  if  she  is  wise,  will  never  suffer  this 
thing  from  her  ancient  enemy." 

"It  is  the  might  of  the  world  which  threatens,"  she 
murmured.  "Your  country  may  defend  herself,  but 
here  she  is  powerless.  Already  it  has  been  proved.  Last 
year  you  declared  yourself  our  friend  —  you  and  even 
Russia.  Of  what  avail  was  it?  Word  came  from  Berlin 
and  you  were  powerless." 

Then  tragedy  broke  into  the  room,  tragedy  in  the  shape 
of  a  man  demented.  For  fifteen  years  Bellamy  had  known 
Arthur  Dorward,  but  this  man  was  surely  a  stranger !  He 
was  hatless,  dishevelled,  wild.  A  dull  streak  of  color  had 
mounted  almost  to  his  forehead,  his  eyes  were  on  fire. 

"Bellamy!"  he  cried.    "Bellamy!" 

Words  failed  him  suddenly.  He  leaned  against  the 
table,  breathless,  panting  heavily. 

"  For  God's  sake,  man,"  Bellamy  began,  — 

"Alone!"  Dorward  interrupted.  "I  must  see  you 
alone  !  I  have  news  !" 

Mademoiselle  Idiale  rose.  She  touched  Bellamy  on 
the  shoulder. 

"You  will  come  to  me,  or  telephone,"  she  whispered. 
"So?" 

Bellamy  opened  the  door  and  she  passed  out,  with  a 
farewell  pressure  of  his  fingers.  Then  he  closed  it  firmly 
and  came  back. 


CHAPTER  H 

ARTHUR  DORWARD'S  "  SCOOP  " 

*'  WHAT'S  wrong,  old  man?"  Bellamy  asked  quickly. 

Dorward  from  a  side  table  had  seized  the  bottle  of 
whiskey  and  a  siphon,  and  was  mixing  himself  a  drink 
with  trembling  fingers.  He  tossed  it  off  before  he  spoke 
a  word.  Then  he  turned  around  and  faced  his  companion. 

"Bellamy,"  he  ordered,  "lock  the  door." 

Bellamy  obeyed.    He  had  no  doubt  now  but  that  Dor- 
ward  had  lost  his  head  in  the  Chancellor's  presence  — 
had  made  some  absurd  attempt  to  gain  the  knowledge 
which  they  both  craved,  and  had  failed. 

"Bellamy,"  Dorward  exclaimed,  speaking  hoarsely 
and  still  a  little  out  of  breath,  "I  guess  I've  had  the 
biggest  slice  of  luck  that  was  ever  dealt  out  to  a  human 
being.  If  only  I  can  get  safe  out  of  this  city,  I  tell 
you  I've  got  the  greatest  scoop  that  living  man  ever 
handled." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  — " 

Dorward  wiped  his  forehead  and  interrupted. 

"It's  the  most  amazing  thing  that  ever  happened,"  he 
declared,  "but  I've  got  it  here  in  my  pocket,  got  it  in 
black  and  white,  in  the  Chancellor's  own  handwriting." 

"Got  what?" 

"  Why,  what  you  and  I,  an  hour  ago,  would  have  given 
&  million  for,"  Dorward  replied. 

Bellamy's  expression  was  one  of  blank  but  wondering 
incredulity. 


ARTHUR    DORWARD'S    "SCOOP"       13 

"You  can't  mean  this,  Dorward!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  You  may  have  something  —  just  what  the  Chancellor 
wants  you  to  print.  You're  not  supposing  for  an  instant 
that  you've  got  the  whole  truth?" 

Dorward's  smile  was  the  smile  of  certainty,  his  face  that 
of  a  conqueror. 

"Here  in  my  pocket,"  he  declared,  striking  his  chest, 
"in  the  Chancellor's  own  handwriting.  I  tell  you  I've 
got  the  original  verbatim  copy  of  everything  that  passed 
and  was  resolved  upon  this  afternoon  between  the  Czar 
of  Russia,  the  Emperor  of  Austria  and  the  Emperor  of 
Germany.  I've  got  it  word  for  word  as  the  Chancellor 
took  it  down.  I've  got  their  decision.  I've  got  their 
several  undertakings." 

Bellamy  for  a  moment  was  stricken  dumb.  He  looked 
toward  the  door  and  back  into  his  friend's  face  aglow  with 
triumph.  Then  his  power  of  speech  returned. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  stole  it?" 

Dorward  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  Not  I !  I  tell  you  that  the  Chancellor  gave  it  to  me, 
gave  it  to  me  with  his  own  hands,  willingly,  —  pressed 
it  upon  me.  No,  don't  scoff!"  he  went  on  quickly. 
"Listen!  This  is  a  genuine  thing.  The  Chancellor's 
mad.  He  was  lying  in  a  fit  when  I  left  the  Palace.  It  will 
be  in  all  the  evening  papers.  You  will  hear  the  boys 
shouting  it  in  the  streets  within  a  few  minutes.  Don't 
interrupt  and  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  You  can  be- 
lieve me  or  not,  as  you  like.  It  makes  no  odds.  I  arrived 
punctually  and  was  shown  up  into  the  anteroom.  Even 
from  there  I  could  hear  loud  voices  in  the  inner  chamber 
and  I  knew  that  something  was  up.  Presently  a  little 
fellow  came  out  to  me  —  a  dark-bearded  chap  with  gold- 
rimmed  glasses.  He  was  very  polite,  introduced  himself 


i4  HAVOC 

as  the  Chancellor's  physician,  regretted  exceedingly  that 
the  Chancellor  was  unwell  and  could  see  no  one,  —  the 
excitement  and  hard  work  of  the  last  few  days  had  knocked 
him  out.  Well,  I  stood  there  arguing  as  pleasantly  as  I 
could  about  it,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  the  door  of  the 
inner  room  was  thrown  open.  The  Chancellor  himself 
stood  on  the  threshold.  There  was  no  doubt  about  his 
being  ill ;  his  face  was  as  pale  as  parchment,  his  eyes  were 
simply  wild,  and  his  hair  was  all  ruffled  as  though  he  had 
been  standing  upon  his  head.  He  began  to  talk  to  the 
physician  in  German.  I  did  n't  understand  him  until 
he  began  to  swear,  —  then  it  was  wonderful !  In  the  end 
he  brushed  them  all  away  and,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  led 
me  right  into  the  inner  room.  For  a  long  time  he  went 
on  jabbering  away  half  to  himself,  and  I  was  wondering 
how  on  earth  to  bring  the  conversation  round  to  the 
things  I  wanted  to  know  about.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  he 
turned  to  me  and  seemed  to  remember  who  I  was  and 
what  I  wanted.  'Ah!'  he  said,  'you  are  Dorward,  the 
American  journalist.  I  remember  you  now.  Lock  the 
door.'  I  obeyed  him  pretty  quick,  for  I  had  noticed  they 
were  mighty  uneasy  outside,  and  I  was  afraid  they'd  be 
disturbing  us  every  moment.  'Come  and  sit  down,'  he 
ordered.  I  did  so  at  once.  'You're  a  sensible  fellow,' 
he  declared.  'To-day  every  one  is  worrying  me.  They 
think  that  I  am  not  well.  It  is  foolish.  I  am  quite  well. 
Who  would  not  be  well  on  such  a  day  as  this?'  I  told 
him  that  I  had  never  seen  him  looking  better  in  my  life, 
and  he  nodded  and  seemed  pleased.  'You  have  come  to 
hear  the  truth  about  the  meeting  of  my  master  with  the 
Czar  and  the  Emperor  of  Germany ?'  he  asked.  'That's 
so,'  I  told  hun.  'America's  more  than  a  little  interested 
in  these  things,  and  I  want  to  know  what  to  tell  her.' 


ARTHUR    DORWARD'S    ''SCOOP"      15 

Then  he  leaned  across  the  table.  'My  young  friend,'  he 
said,  'I  like  you.  You  are  straightforward.  You  speak 
plainly  and  you  do  not  worry  me.  It  is  good.  You  shall 
tell  your  country  what  it  is  that  we  have  planned,  what 
the  things  are  that  are  coming.  Yours  is  a  great  and  wise 
country.  When  they  know  the  truth,  they  will  remember 
that  Europe  is  a  long  way  off  and  that  the  things  which 
happen  there  are  really  no  concern  of  theirs.'  'You  are 
right,'  I  assured  him,  — 'dead  right.  Treat  us  openly,  — 
that 's  all  we  ask.'  '  Shall  I  not  do  that,  my  young  friend  ? ' 
he  answered.  'Now  look,  I  give  you  this.'  He  fumbled 
through  all  his  pockets  and  at  last  he  drew  out  a  long  en- 
velope, sealed  at  both  ends  with  black  sealing  wax  on 
which  was  printed  a  coat  of  arms  with  two  tigers  facing 
each  other.  He  looked  toward  the  door  cautiously,  and 
there  was  just  that  gleam  in  his  eyes  which  madmen 
always  have.  'Here  it  is,'  he  whispered,  'written  with 
my  own  hand.  This  will  tell  you  exactly  what  passed  this 
afternoon.  It  will  tell  you  our  plans.  It  will  tell  you  of 
the  share  which  my  master  and  the  other  two  are  taking. 
Button  it  up  safely,'  he  said,  'and,  whatever  you  do,  do 
not  let  them  know  outside  that  you  have  got  it.  Between 
you  and  me,'  he  went  on,  leaning  across  the  table,  '  some- 
thing seems  to  have  happened  to  them  all  to-day.  There's 
my  old  doctor  there.  He  is  worrying  all  the  time,  but  he 
himself  is  not  well.  I  can  see  it  whenever  he  comes  near 
me.'  I  nodded  as  though  I  understood  and  the  Chan- 
cellor tapped  his  forehead  and  grinned.  Then  I  got  up 
as  casually  as  I  could,  for  I  was  terribly  afraid  that  he 
would  n't  let  me  go.  We  shook  hands,  and  I  tell  you  his 
fingers  were  like  pieces  of  burning  coal.  Just  as  I  was 
moving,  some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  Then  he  began 
to  storm  again,  kicked  his  chair  over,  threw  a  par-e-- 


16  HAVOC 

weight  at  the  window,  and  talked  such  nonsense  that  I 
could  n't  follow  him.  I  unlocked  the  door  myself  and 
found  the  doctor  there.  I  contrived  to  look  as  frightened 
as  possible.  'His  Highness  is  not  well  enough  to  talk  to 
me,'  I  whispered.  'You  had  better  look  after  him.'  I 
heard  a  shout  behind  and  a  heavy  fall.  Then  I  closed  the 
door  and  slipped  away  as  quietly  as  I  could  —  and  here 
I  am." 

Bellamy  drew  a  long  breath. 

"My  God,  but  this  is  wonderful!"  he  muttered. 
"How  long  is  it  since  you  left  the  Palace?" 

"About  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  Dorward 
answered. 

"They'll  find  it  out  at  once,"  declared  the  other. 
"They'll  miss  the  paper.  Perhaps  he'll  tell  them  him- 
self that  he  has  given  it  to  you.  Don't  let  us  run  any 
risks,  Dorward.  Tear  it  open.  Let  us  know  the  truth, 
at  any  rate.  If  you  have  to  part  with  the  document,  we 
can  remember  its  contents.  Out  with  it,  man,  quick ! 
They  may  be  here  at  any  moment." 

Dorward  drew  a  few  steps  back.  Then  he  shook  his 
head. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  said  firmly. 

Bellamy  regarded  his  friend  in  blank  and  uncompre- 
hending amazement. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  exclaimed.  "You're  not 
going  to  keep  it  to  yourself  ?  You  know  what  it  means  to 
me  —to  England?" 

"Your  old  country  can  look  after  herself  pretty  well," 
Dorward  declared.  "Anyhow,  she'll  have  to  take  her 
chance.  I  am  not  here  as  a  philanthropist.  I  am  an 
American  journalist,  and  I'll  part  to  nobody  with  the 
biggest  thing  that's  ever  come  into  any  man's  hands." 


ARTHUR    DORWARD'S    "SCOOP"       17 

Bellamy,  with  a  tremendous  effort,  maintained  his 
self-control. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"   he  asked  quickly. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  off  out  of  the  country  to-night,"  Dor- 
ward  declared.  "I  shall  head  for  England.  Pearce  is 
there  himself,  and  I  tell  you  it  will  be  just  the  greatest  day 
of  my  life  when  I  put  this  packet  in  his  hand.  We'll 
make  New  York  hum,  I  can  promise  you,  and  Europe 
too." 

Bellamy's  manner  was  perfectly  quiet  —  too  quiet  to 
be  altogether  natural.  His  hand  was  straying  towards 
his  pocket. 

"Dorward,"  he  said,  speaking  rapidly,  and  keeping 
his  back  to  the  door,  "you  don't  realize  what  you're  up 
against.  This  sort  of  thing  is  new  to  you.  You  have  n't 
a  dog's  chance  of  leaving  Vienna  alive  with  that  in  your 
pocket.  If  you  trust  yourself  in  the  Orient  Express  to- 
night, you'll  never  be  allowed  to  cross  the  frontier.  By 
this  time  they  know  that  the  packet  is  missing;  they 
know,  too,  that  you  are  the  only  man  who  could  have  it, 
whether  the  Chancellor  has  told  them  the  truth  or  not. 
Open  it  at  once  so  that  we  get  some  good  out  of  it.  Then 
we'll  go  round  to  the  Embassy.  We  can  slip  out  by 
the  back  way,  perhaps.  Remember  I  have  spent  my 
life  in  the  service,  and  I  tell  you  that  there's  no  other 
place  in  the  city  where  your  life  is  worth  a  snap  of  the 
fingers  but  at  your  Embassy  or  mine.  Open  the  packet, 
man." 

"I  think  not,"  Dorward  answered  firmly.  "I  am  an 
American  citizen.  I  have  broken  no  laws  and  done  no 
one  any  harm.  If  there's  any  slaughtering  about,  I  guess 
they'll  hesitate  before  they  begin  with  Arthur  Dorward. 
.  .  .  Don't  be  a  fool,  man!" 


i8  HAVOC 

He  took  a  quick  step  backward,  —  he  was  looking  into 
the  muzzle  of  Bellamy's  revolver. 

"Dorward,"  the  latter  exclaimed,  "I  can't  help  it! 
Yours  is  only  a  personal  ambition  —  I  stand  for  my  coun- 
try. Share  the  knowledge  of  that  packet  with  me  or  I 
shall  shoot." 

"  Then  shoot  and  be  d — d  to  you  ! "  Dorward  de- 
clared fiercely.  "This  is  my  show,  not  yours.  You  and 
your  country  can  go  to  — " 

He  broke  off  without  finishing  his  sentence.  There  was 
a  thunderous  knocking  at  the  door.  The  two  men  looked 
at  one  another  for  a  moment,  speechless.  Then  Bellamy, 
with  a  smothered  oath,  replaced  the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

"You've  thrown  away  our  chance,"  he  said  bitterly. 

The  knocking  was  repeated.  When  Bellamy  with  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  answered  the  summons,  three  men 
in  plain  clothes  entered.  They  saluted  Bellamy,  but  their 
eyes  were  traveling  around  the  room. 

"We  are  seeking  Herr  Dorward,  the  American  jour- 
nalist!" one  exclaimed.  "He  was  here  but  a  moment 
ago." 

Bellamy  pointed  to  the  inner  door.  He  had  had  too 
much  experience  in  such  matters  to  attempt  any  pre- 
varication. The  three  men  crossed  the  room  quickly 
and  Bellamy  followed  in  the  rear.  He  heard  a  cry  of  dis- 
appointment from  the  foremost  as  he  opened  the  door. 
The  inner  room  was  empty ! 


CHAPTER  III 

"  OTJES    IS    A    STRANGE    COURTSHIP  M 

LOUISE  looked  up  eagerly  as  he  entered. 

"There  is  news!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  can  see  it  in 
your  face." 

"  Yes,"  Bellamy  answered,  "  there  is  news !  That  is 
why  I  have  come.  Where  can  we  talk  ?  " 

She  rose  to  her  feet.  Before  them  the  open  French 
windows  led  on  to  a  smooth  green  lawn.  She  took  his 
arm. 

"  Come  outside  with  me,"  she  said.  "  I  am  shut  up 
here  because  I  will  not  see  the  doctors  whom  they  send, 
or  any  one  from  the  Opera  House.  An  envoy  from  the 
Palace  has  been  and  I  have  sent  him  away." 

"You  mean  to  keep  your  word,  then?" 

"  Have  I  ever  broken  it  ?  Never  again  will  I  sing  in  this 
city.  It  is  so." 

Bellamy  looked  around.  The  garden  of  the  villa  was 
enclosed  by  high  gray  stone  walls.  They  were  secure 
here,  at  least,  from  eavesdroppers.  She  rested  her  fingers 
lightly  upon  his  arm,  holding  up  the  skirts  of  her  loose 
gown  with  her  other  hand. 

"I  have  spoken  to  you,"  he  said,  "of  Dorward,  the 
American  journalist." 

She  nodded. 

"  Of  course,"  she  assented.  "  You  told  me  that  the 
Chancellor  had  promised  him  an  interview  for  to-day." 


20  HAVOC 

"Well,  he  went  to  the  Palace  and  the  Chancellor  saw 
him." 

She  looked  at  him  with  upraised  eyebrows. 

"The  newspapers  are  full  of  lies  as  usual,  then,  I  sup- 
pose. The  latest  telegrams  say  that  the  Chancellor  is 
dangerously  ill." 

"It  is  quite  true,"  Bellamy  declared.  "What  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  is  surprising,  but  I  had  it  from  Dorward 
himself.  When  he  reached  the  Palace,  the  Chancellor 
was  practically  insane.  His  doctors  were  trying  to  per- 
suade him  to  go  to  his  room  and  lie  down,  but  he  heard 
Dorward's  voice  and  insisted  upon  seeing  him.  The 
man  was  mad  —  on  the  verge  of  a  collapse  —  and  he 
handed  over  to  Dorward  his  notes,  and  a  verbatim  re- 
port of  all  that  passed  at  the  Palace  this  morning." 

She  looked  at  him  incredulously. 

"My  dear  David  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  is  amazing,"  he  admitted,  "but  it  is  the  truth.  I 
know  it  for  a  fact.  The  man  was  absolutely  beside  him- 
self, he  had  no  idea  what  he  was  doing." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  quickly.    "  You  have  seen  it  ?  " 

"Dorward  would  not  give  it  up,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"While  we  argued  in  our  sitting-room  at  the  hotel  the 
police  arrived.  Dorward  escaped  through  the  bedroom 
and  down  the  service  stairs.  He  spoke  of  trying  to  catch 
the  Orient  Express  to-night,  but  I  doubt  if  they  will  ever 
let  him  leave  the  city." 

"It  is  wonderful,  this,"  she  murmured  softly.  "What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Louise,  you  and  I  have  few  secrets  from  each  other. 
I  would  have  killed  Dorward  to  obtain  that  sealed  en- 
velope, because  I  believe  that  the  knowledge  of  its  contents 
in  London  to-day  would  save  us  from  disaster.  To  know 


"A    STRANGE    COURTSHIP"  21 

how  far  each  is  pledged,  and  from  which  direction  the 
first  blow  is  to  come,  would  be  our  salvation." 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  she  said,  "  why  he  should 
have  refused  to  share  his  knowledge  with  you.  He  is  an 
American  —  it  is  almost  the  same  thing  as  being  an  Eng- 
lishman. And  you  are  friends,  —  I  am  sure  that  you 
have  helped  him  often." 

"  It  was  a  matter  of  vanity  —  simply  cursed  vanity," 
Bellamy  answered.  "It  would  have  been  the  greatest 
journalistic  success  of  modern  times  for  him  to  have 
printed  that  document,  word  for  word,  in  his  paper.  He 
fights  for  his  own  hand  alone." 

"And  you?"  she  whispered. 

"He  will  have  to  reckon  with  me,"  Bellamy  declared. 
"I  know  that  he  is  going  to  try  and  leave  Vienna  to- 
night, and  if  he  does  I  shall  be  at  his  heels." 

She  nodded  her  head  thoughtfully. 

"I,  too,"  she  announced.  "I  come  with  you,  my 
friend.  I  do  no  more  good  here,  and  they  worry  my  life 
out  all  the  time.  I  come  to  sing  in  London  at  Covent 
Garden.  I  have  agreements  there  which  only  await  my 
signature.  We  will  go  together;  is  it  not  so?" 

"Very  well,"  he  answered,  "only  remember  that  my 
movements  must  depend  very  largely  upon  Dorward's. 
The  train  leaves  at  eight  o'clock,  station  time.  I  have 
already  a  coupe  reserved." 

"I  come  with  you,"  she  murmured.  "I  am  very  weary 
of  this  city." 

They  walked  on  for  a  few  paces  in  silence.  Bellamy 
looked  around  the  gardens,  brilliant  with  flowering 
shrubs  and  rose  trees,  with  here  and  there  some  delicate 
piece  of  statuary  half-hidden  amongst  the  wealth  of 
foliage.  The  villa  had  once  belonged  to  a  royal  favorite, 


22  HAVOC 

and  the  grounds  had  been  its  chief  glory.  They  reached 
a  sheltered  seat  and  sat  down.  A  few  yards  away  a  tiny 
waterfall  came  tumbling  over  the  rocks  into  a  deep  pool. 
They  were  hidden  from  the  windows  of  the  villa  by  the 
boughs  of  a  drooping  chestnut  tree.  Bellamy  stooped 
and  kissed  her  upon  the  lips. 

"Ours  is  a  strange  courtship,  Louise,"  he  whispered 
softly. 

She  took  his  hand  in  hers  and  smoothed  it.  She  had 
returned  his  kiss,  but  she  drew  a  little  further  away 
from  him. 

"Ah!  my  dear  friend,"  looking  at  him  with  sorrow  in 
her  eyes,  "  courtship  is  scarcely  the  word,  is  it  ?  For  you 
and  me  there  is  nothing  to  hope  for,  nothing  beyond." 

He  leaned  towards  her. 

"Never  believe  that,"  he  begged.  "These  days  are 
dark  enough,  Heaven  knows,  yet  the  work  of  every  one 
has  its  goal.  Even  our  turn  may  come." 

Something  flickered  for  a  moment  in  her  face,  some- 
thing which  seemed  to  make  a  different  woman  of  her. 
Bellamy  saw  it,  and  hardened  though  he  was  he  felt  the 
slow  stirring  of  his  own  pulses.  He  kissed  her  hand  pas- 
sionately and  she  shivered. 

"We  must  not  talk  of  these  things,"  she  said.  "We 
must  not  think  of  them.  At  least  our  friendship  has  been 
wonderful.  Now  I  must  go  in.  I  must  tell  my  maid  and 
arrange  to  steal  away  to-night." 

They  stood  up,  and  he  held  her  in  his  arms  for  a  mo- 
ment. Though  her  lips  met  his  freely  enough,  he  was 
very  conscious  of  the  reserve  with  which  she  yielded  her- 
self to  him,  conscious  of  it  and  thankful,  too.  They 
walked  up  the  path  together,  and  as  they  went  she  plucked 
a  red  rose  and  thrust  it  through  his  buttonhole. 


"A    STRANGE    COURTSHIP"  23 

"If  we  had  no  dreams,"  she  said  softly,  "life  would 
not  be  possible.  Perhaps  some  day  even  we  may  pluck 
roses  together." 

He  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips.  It  was  not  often  that 
they  lapsed  into  sentiment.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was 
finished. 

"  You  had  better  leave,"  she  told  him,  "  by  the  garden 
gate.  There  are  the  usual  crowd  in  my  anteroom,  and 
it  is  well  that  you  and  I  are  not  seen  too  much  together." 

"Till  this  evening,"  he  whispered,  as  he  turned  away. 
"  I  shall  be  at  the  station  early.  If  Dorward  is  taken,  I 
shall  still  leave  Vienna.  If  he  goes,  it  may  be  an  eventful 
journey." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    NIGHT    TRAIN    FROM    VIENNA 

DORWARD,  whistling  softly  to  himself,  sat  in  a  corner  of 
his  coupe  rolling  innumerable  cigarettes.  He  was  a  man 
of  unbounded  courage  and  wonderful  resource,  but  with 
a  slightly  exaggerated  idea  as  to  the  sanctity  of  an  Ameri- 
can citizen.  He  had  served  his  apprenticeship  in  his  own 
country,  and  his  name  had  become  a  household  word 
owing  to  his  brilliant  success  as  war  correspondent  in  the 
Russo-Japanese  War.  His  experience  of  European  coun- 
tries, however,  was  limited.  After  the  more  obvious 
dangers  with  which  he  had  grappled  and  which  he  had 
overcome  during  his  adventurous  career,  he  was  disposed 
to  be  a  little  contemptuous  of  the  subtler  perils  at  which 
his  friend  Bellamy  had  plainly  hinted.  He  had  made  his 
escape  from  the  hotel  without  any  very  serious  difficulty, 
and  since  that  time,  although  he  had  taken  no  particular 
precautions,  he  had  remained  unmolested.  From  his 
own  point  of  view,  therefore,  it  was  perhaps  only  reason- 
able that  he  should  no  longer  have  any  misgiving  as 
to  his  personal  safety.  Arrest  as  a  thief  was  the  worst 
which  he  had  feared.  Even  that  he  seemed  now  to  have 
evaded. 

The  coupe  was  exceedingly  comfortable  and,  after  all, 
he  had  had  a  somewhat  exciting  day.  He  lit  a  cigarette 
and  stretched  himself  out  with  a  murmur  of  immense 
satisfaction.  He  was  close  upon  the  great  triumph  of  his 


NIGHT    TRAIN    FROM    VIENNA        25 

life.  He  was  perfectly  content  to  lie  there  and  look  out 
upon  the  flying  landscape,  upon  which  the  shadows  were 
now  fast  descending.  He  was  safe,  absolutely  safe,  he 
assured  himself.  Nevertheless,  when  the  door  of  his 
coupe  was  opened,  he  started  almost  like  a  guilty  man. 
The  relief  in  his  face  as  he  recognized  his  visitor  was 
obvious.  It  was  Bellamy  who  entered  and  dropped  into 
a  seat  by  his  side. 

"Wasting  your  time,  aren't  you?"  the  latter  re- 
marked, pointing  to  the  growing  heap  of  cigarettes. 

"Well,  I  guess  not,"  Dorward  answered.  " I  can  smoke 
this  lot  before  we  reach  London." 

Bellamy  smiled  enigmatically. 

"  I  don't  think  that  you  will,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?" 

"You  are  such  a  sanguine  person,"  Bellamy  sighed. 
"Personally,  I  do  not  think  that  there  is  the  slightest 
chance  of  your  reaching  London  at  all." 

Dorward  laughed  scornfully. 

"And  why  not?"  he  asked. 

Bellamy  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Dorward 
seemed  to  find  the  gesture  irritating. 

"You've  got  espionage  on  the  brain,  my  dear  friend," 
he  declared'  dryly.  "I  suppose  it's  the  result  of  your 
profession.  I  may  not  know  so  much  about  Europe  as 
you  do,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  an  American 
citizen  traveling  with  his  passport  on  a  train  like  this  is 
moderately  safe,  especially  when  he's  not  above  a  scrap 
by  way  of  taking  care  of  himself." 

"You're  a  plucky  fellow,"  remarked  Bellamy. 

"I  don't  see  any  pluck  about  it.  In  Vienna,  I  must 
admit,  I  should  n't  have  been  surprised  if  they'd  tried  to 
fake  up  some  sort  of  charge  against  me,  but  anyhow  they 


26  HAVOC 

did  n't.  Guess  they'd  find  it  a  pretty  tall  order  trying  to 
interfere  with  an  American  citizen." 

Bellamy  looked  at  his  friend  curiously. 

"I  suppose  you're  not  bluffing,  by  any  chance, 
Dorward?"  he  said.  "You  really  believe  what  you 
say?" 

"Why  in  thunder  should  n't  I?"  Dorward  asked. 

Bellamy  sighed. 

"  My  dear  Dorward,"  he  said,  "  it  is  amazing  to  me  that 
a  man  of  your  experience  should  talk  and  behave  like  a 
baby.  You  've  taken  some  notice  of  your  fellow-passengers, 
I  suppose?" 

"I've  seen  a  few  of  them,"  Dorward  answered  care- 
lessly. "  What  about  them  ?  " 

"  Nothing  much,"  Bellamy  declared,  "  except  that  there 
are,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  three  high  officials  of  the 
Secret  Police  of  Austria  in  the  next  coupe  but  one,  and  at 
least  four  or  five  of  their  subordinates  somewhere  on 
board  the  train." 

Dorward  withdrew  his  cigarette  from  his  mouth  and 
looked  at  his  friend  keenly. 

"I  guess  you're  trying  to  scare  me,  Bellamy,"  he 
remarked. 

But  Bellamy  was  suddenly  grave.  There  had  come  into 
his  face  an  utterly  altered  expression.  His  tone,  when  he 
spoke,  was  almost  solemn. 

"Dorward,"  he  said,  "upon  my  honor,  I  assure  you 
that  what  I  have  told  you  is  the  truth.  I  cannot  seem  to 
make  you  realize  the  seriousness  of  your  position.  When 
you  left  the  Palace  with  that  paper  in  your  pocket,  you 
were,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  doomed  man.  Your 
passport  and  your  American  citizenship  count  for  abso- 
lutely nothing.  I  have  come  in  to  warn  you  that  if  you 


NIGHT    TRAIN    FROM    VIENNA        27 

have  any  last  messages  to  leave,  you  had  better  give  them 
to  me  now." 

"This  is  a  pretty  good  bluff  you're  putting  up !"  Dor- 
ward  exclaimed  contemptuously.  "The  long  and  short 
of  it  is,  I  suppose,  that  you  want  me  to  break  the  seal  of 
this  document  and  let  you  read  it." 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  too  late  for  that,  Dorward,"  he  said.  "If  the 
seal  were  broken,  they'd  very  soon  guess  where  I  came  in, 
and  it  would  n't  help  the  work  I  have  in  hand  for  me  to 
be  picked  up  with  a  bullet  in  my  forehead  on  the  railway 
track." 

Dorward  frowned  uneasily. 

"What  are  you  here  for,  anyway,  then?"   he  asked. 

"Well,  frankly,  not  to  argue  with  you,"  Bellamy  an- 
swered. "As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  are  of  no  use  to  me  any 
longer.  I  am  sorry,  old  man.  You  can't  say  that  I  did  n't 
give  you  good  advice.  I  am  bound  to  play  for  my  own 
hand,  though,  in  this  matter,  and  if  I  get  any  benefit  at 
all  out  of  my  journey,  it  will  be  after  some  regrettable 
accident  has  happened  to  you." 

"Say,  ring  the  bell  for  drinks  and  chuck  this!"  Dor- 
ward  exclaimed.  "I've  had  about  enough  of  it.  I  am 
not  denying  anything  you  say,  but  if  these  fellows  really 
are  on  board,  they'll  think  twice  before  they  meddle 
with  me." 

"On  the  contrary,"  Bellamy  assured  him,  "they  will 
not  take  the  trouble  to  think  at  all.  Their  minds  are 
perfectly  made  up  as  to  what  they  are  going  to  do.  How- 
ever, that's  finished.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

Dorward  gazed  for  a  minute  or  two  fixedly  out  of  the 
window. 

"Look  here,  Bellamy,"  he  said,  turning  abruptly  round, 


28  HAVOC 

"supposing  I  change  my  mind,  supposing  I  open  this 
precious  document  and  let  you  read  it  over  with  me?" 

Bellamy  rose  hastily  to  his  feet. 

"You  must  not  think  of  it!'*  he  exclaimed.  "You 
would  simply  write  my  death-warrant.  Don't  allude  to 
that  matter  again.  I  have  risked  enough  in  coming  in 
here  to  sit  with  you." 

"Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  stop  any  longer!" 
Dorward  said  irritably.  "You  get  on  my  nerves  with  all 
this  foolish  talk.  In  an  hour's  time  I  am  going  to  bolt 
my  door  and  go  to  sleep.  We'll  breakfast  together  in  the 
morning,  if  you  like." 

Bellamy  said  nothing.  The  steward  had  brought  them 
the  whiskies  and  sodas  which  Dorward  had  ordered.  Bel- 
lamy raised  his  tumbler  to  his  lips  and  set  it  down  again. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  think  that  I  am 
thirsty." 

Dorward  drank  his  off  at  a  gulp.  Almost  immediately 
he  closed  his  eyes.  Bellamy,  with  a  little  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  left  him  alone.  As  he  passed  along  to  his  own 
coupe,  he  met  Louise  in  the  corridor. 

"You  have  seen  Von  Behrling?"  he  whispered. 

She  nodded. 

"He  is  in  that  coupe,  number  7,  alone,"  she  said.  "I 
invited  him  to  come  in  with  me  but  he  seemed  embar- 
rassed. It  is  his  companions  who  watch  him  all  the  time. 
He  has  promised  to  talk  with  me  later." 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  Louise  opened  her  eyes  to 
find  Bellamy  bending  over  her. 

"Louise,"  he  whispered,  "it  is  Von  Behrling  who  will 
take  possession  of  the  packet.  They  have  been  discussing 
whether  it  will  not  be  safer  to  go  on  to  London  instead 
of  doubling  back.  See  Von  Behrling  again.  Do  all  you 


NIGHT    TRAIN    FROM    VIENNA        29 

can  to  persuade  him  to  come  to  London,  —  all  you  can, 
Louise,  remember." 

"So!"  she  whispered.  "I  shall  put  on  my  dressing- 
gown  and  sit  in  the  corridor.  It  is  hot  here." 

Bellamy  glided  out,  closing  the  door  softly  behind  him. 
The  train  was  rushing  on  now  through  the  blackness  of 
an  unusually  dark  night.  For  some  time  he  sat  in  his  own 
compartment,  listening.  The  voices  whose  muttered  con- 
versation he  had  overheard  were  silent  now,  but  once 
he  fancied  that  he  heard  shuffling  footsteps  and  a  little 
cry.  In  his  heart  he  knew  well  that  before  morning  Dor- 
ward  would  have  disappeared.  The  man  within  him  was 
hard  to  subdue.  He  longed  to  make  his  way  to  Dorward's 
side,  to  interfere  in  this  terribly  unequal  struggle,  yet  he 
made  no  movement.  Dorward  was  a  man  and  a  friend, 
but  what  was  a  life  more  or  less  ?  It  was  to  a  greater 
cause  that  he  was  pledged.  Towards  three  o'clock  he  lay 
down  on  his  bed  and  slept.  .  .  . 

The  train  attendant  brought  him  his  coffee  soon  after 
daylight.  The  man's  hands  were  trembling. 

"Where  are  we?"   Bellamy  asked  sleepily. 

"Near  Munich,  Monsieur,"  the  man  answered.  "Mon- 
sieur noticed,  perhaps,  that  we  stopped  for  some  time  in 
the  night?" 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"  I  sleep  soundly,"  he  said.    "  I  heard  nothing." 

"There  has  been  an  accident,"  the  man  declared. 
"An  American  gentleman  who  got  in  at  Vienna  was 
drinking  whiskey  all  night  and  became  very  drunk.  In 
a  tunnel  he  threw  himself  out  upon  the  line." 

Bellamy  shuddered  a  little.  He  had  been  prepared, 
but  none  the  less  it  was  an  awful  thing,  this. 

"You  are  sure  that  he  is  dead?"   he  asked. 


30  HAVOC 

The  man  was  very  sure  indeed. 

"There  is  a  doctor  from  Vienna  upon  the  train,  sir," 
he  said.  "He  examined  him  at  once,  but  death  must 
have  been  instantaneous." 

Bellamy  drew  a  long  breath  and  commenced  to  put 
on  his  clothes.  The  next  move  was  for  him. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  VON    BEHRLING    HAS    THE    PACKET  " 

BELLAMY  stole  along  the  half-lit  corridors  of  the  train 
until  he  came  to  the  coupe  which  had  been  reserved  for 
Mademoiselle  Idiale.  Assured  that  he  was  not  watched, 
he  softly  turned  the  handle  of  the  door  and  entered.  Louise 
was  sitting  up  in  her  dressing-gown,  drinking  her  coffee. 
He  held  up  his  finger  and  she  greeted  him  only  with  a 
nod. 

"Forgive  me,  Louise,"  he  whispered,  "I  dared  not 
knock,  and  I  was  obliged  to  see  you  at  once." 

She  smiled. 

"It  is  of  no  consequence,"  she  said.  "One  is  always 
prepared  here.  The  porter,  the  ticket-man,  and  at  the 
customs  — they  all  enter.  Is  anything  wrong?" 

"  It  has  happened,"  he  answered. 

She  shivered  a  little  and  her  face  became  grave. 

"Poor  fellow!"  she  murmured. 

"He  simply  sat  still  and  asked  for  it,"  Bellamy  de- 
clared, still  speaking  in  a  cautious  undertone.  "  He  would 
not  be  warned.  I  could  have  saved  him,  if  any  one  could, 
but  he  would  not  hear  reason." 

"He  was  what  you  call  pig-headed,"  she  remarked. 

"  He  has  paid  the  penalty,"  Bellamy  continued.  "  Now 
listen  to  me,  Louise.  I  got  into  that  small  coupe  next 
to  Von  Behrling's,  and  I  feel  sure,  from  what  I  overheard, 
that  they  will  go  on  to  London,  all  three  of  them." 

"Who  is  there  on  the  train?"   she  demanded. 


32  HAVOC 

"Baron  Streuss,  who  is  head  of  the  Secret  Police,  Von 
Behrling  and  Adolf  Kahn,"  Bellamy  answered.  "Then 
there  are  four  or  five  Secret  Service  men  of  the  rank  and 
file,  but  they  are  all  traveling  separately.  Von  Behrling 
has  the  packet.  The  others  form  a  sort  of  cordon  around 
him." 

"But  why,"  she  asked,  "does  he  go  on  to  London? 
Why  not  return  to  Vienna?" 

"For  one  thing,"  Bellamy  replied,  with  a  grim  smile, 
"they  are  afraid  of  me.  Then  you  must  remember  that 
this  affair  of  Dorward  will  be  talked  about.  They  do  not 
want  to  seem  in  any  way  implicated.  To  return  from 
any  one  of  these  stations  down  the  line  would  create 
suspicion." 

She  nodded. 

"Well?" 

"I  am  going  to  leave  the  train  at  the  next  stop,"  he 
continued.  "I  find  that  I  shall  just  catch  the  Northern 
Express  to  Berlin.  From  there  I  shall  come  on  to  London 
as  quickly  as  I  can.  You  know  the  address  of  my  rooms  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  15,  Fitzroy  Street." 

"  When  I  get  there,  let  me  have  a  line  waiting  to  tell  me 
where  I  can  see  you.  While  I  am  on  the  train  you  will 
find  Von  Behrling  almost  inaccessible.  Directly  I  have 
gone  it  will  be  different.  Play  with  him  carefully.  He 
should  not  be  difficult.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  rather 
surprised  that  he  has  been  trusted  upon  a  mission  like 
this.  He  was  in  disgrace  with  the  Chancellor  a  short 
while  ago,  and  I  know  that  he  was  hurt  at  not  being  al- 
lowed to  attend  the  conference.  The  others  will  watch 
him  closely,  but  they  cannot  overhear  everything  that 
passes  between  you  two.  Von  Behrling  is  a  poor 


"VON    BEHRLING    HAS    PACKET'       33 

man.  You  will  know  how  to  make  him  wish  he  were 
rich." 

Very  slowly  her  eyebrows  rose  up.  She  looked  at  him 
doubtfully. 

"It  is  a  slender  chance,  David,"  she  remarked.  "Von 
Behrling  is  a  little  wild,  I  know,  and  he  pretends  to  be 
very  much  in  love  with  me,  but  I  do  not  think  that  he 
would  sell  his  country.  Then,  too,  see  how  he  will  be 
watched.  I  do  not  suppose  that  they  will  leave  us  alone 
for  a  moment." 

Bellamy  took  her  hands  in  his,  gripping  them  with 
almost  unnatural  force. 

"Louise,"  he  declared  earnestly,  "you  don't  quite 
realize  Von  Behrling's  special  weakness  and  your  extraor- 
dinary strength.  You  know  that  you  are  beautiful,  I 
suppose,  but  you  do  not  quite  know  what  that  means.  I 
have  heard  men  talk  about  you  till  one  would  think  that 
they  were  children.  You  'have  something  of  that  art  or 
guile  —  call  it  what  you  will  —  which  passes  from  you 
through  a  man's  blood  to  his  brain,  and  carries  him 
indeed  to  Heaven  —  but  carries  him  there  mad.  Louise, 
don't  be  angry  with  me  for  what  I  say.  Remember  that 
I  know  my  sex.  I  know  you,  too,  and  I  trust  you,  but 
you  can  turn  Von  Behrling  from  a  sane,  honorable  man 
into  what  you  will,  without  suffering  even  his  lips  to 
touch  your  fingers.  Von  Behrling  has  that  packet  in  his 
possession.  When  I  come  to  see  you  in  London.  I  will 
bring  you  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  Bank  of  England 
notes.  With  that  Von  Behrling  might  fancy  himself  on 
his  way  to  America  —  with  you." 

She  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  Perhaps  she  wished 
to  keep  hidden  from  him  the  thoughts  which  chased  one 
another  through  her  brain.  He  wished  to  make  use  of 


34  HAVOC 

her  —  of  her,  the  woman  whom  he  loved.  Then  she 
remembered  that  it  was  for  her  country  and  his,  and  the 
anger  passed. 

"But  I  am  afraid,"  she  said  softly,  "that  the  moment 
they  reach  London  this  document  will  be  taken  to  the 
Austrian  Embassy." 

"Before  then,"  Bellamy  declared,  "Von  Behrling  must 
not  know  whether  he  is  in  heaven  or  upon  earth.  It  will 
not  be  opened  in  London.  He  can  make  up  another 
packet  to  resemble  precisely  the  one  of  which  he  robbed 
Dorward.  Oh !  it  is  a  difficult  game,  I  know,  but  it  is 
worth  playing.  Remember,  Louise,  that  we  are  not 
petty  conspirators.  It  is  your  country's  very  existence 
that  is  threatened.  It  is  for  her  sake  as  well  as  for 
England." 

"I  shall  do  my  best,"  she  murmured,  looking  into  his 
face.  "  Oh,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  do  my  best !" 

Bellamy  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips  and  stole  away. 
The  electric  lamps  had  been  turned  out,  but  the  morning 
was  cloudy  and  the  light  dim.  Back  in  his  own  berth, 
he  put  his  things  together,  ready  to  leave  at  Munich.  Then 
he  rang  for  the  porter. 

"  I  am  getting  out  at  the  next  stop,"  he  announced. 

"Very  good,  Monsieur,"  the  man  answered. 

Bellamy  looked  at  him  closely. 

"You  are  a  Frenchman?" 

"It  is  so,  Monsieur!" 

"I  may  be  wrong,"  Bellamy  continued  slowly,  "but  I 
believe  that  if  I  asked  you  a  question  and  it  concerned 
some  Germans  and  Austrians  you  would  tell  me  the 
truth." 

The  man's  gesture  was  inimitable.  Englishmen  to  him 
were  obviously  the  salt  of  the  earth.  Germans  and  Aus- 


'VON    BEHRLING    HAS    PACKET'       35 

trians  —  why,  they  existed  as  the  cattle  in  the  fields  — • 
nothing  more.    Bellamy  gave  him  a  sovereign. 

"There  were  three  Austrians  who  got  in  at  Vienna," 
he  said.  "  They  are  in  numbers  ten  and  eleven." 

"But  yes,  Monsieur!"  the  man  assented.  "As  yet  I 
think  they  are  fast  asleep.  Not  one  of  them  has  rung  for 
his  coffee." 

"Where  are  they  booked  for?" 

"For  London,  Monsieur." 

"You  do  not  happen,"  Bellamy  continued,  "to  have 
heard  them  say  anything  about  leaving  the  train  before 
then?" 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,"  the  porter  answered,  "two  of 
the  gentlemen  have  been  inquiring  about  the  boat  across 
to  Dover.  They  were  very  anxious  to  travel  by  a  turbine." 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Thank  you  very  much.  You  will  be  so  discreet  as 
to  forget  that  I  have  asked  you  any  questions  concerning 
them.  As  for  me,  if  one  would  know,  I  am  on  my  way 
to  Berlin." 

The  bell  rang.  The  man  looked  outside  and  put  his 
head  once  more  in  Bellamy's  coupe. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  gentleman  who  has  rung,"  he  declared. 
"  If  anything  is  said  about  leaving  the  train,  I  shall  report 
it  at  once  to  Monsieur." 

"You  will  do  well,"  Bellamy  answered. 

The  porter  returned  in  a  few  moments. 

"Two  of  the  gentlemen,  sir,"  he  announced,  "are  un- 
dressed and  in  their  pyjamas.  They  have  ordered  their 
breakfast  to  be  served  after  we  leave  Munich." 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Further,  sir,"  the  man  continued,  coming  a  little 
closer,  "  one  of  them  asked  me  whether  the  English  gentle- 


36  HAVOC 

man  —  meaning  you  —  was  going  through  to  Londoa 
or  not.  I  told  them  that  you  were  getting  out  at  the  next 
station  and  that  I  thought  you  were  going  to  Berlin." 

"Quite  right,"  Bellamy  said.  "If  they  ask  any  more 
questions,  let  me  know." 

Mademoiselle  Idiale,  with  the  aid  of  one  of  the  two 
maids  who  were  traveling  with  her,  was  able  to  make  a 
sufficiently  effective  toilette.  At  a  few  minutes  before  the 
time  for  luncheon,  she  walked  down  the  corridor  and 
recognized  Von  Behrling,  who  was  sitting  with  his  com- 
panions in  one  of  the  compartments. 

"Ah,  it  is  indeed  you,  then!"  she  exclaimed,  smiling 
at  him. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  came  out.  Tall,  with  a  fair 
moustache  and  blue  eyes,  he  was  often  taken  for  an  Eng- 
lishman and  was  inclined  to  be  proud  of  the  fact. 

"You  have  rested  well,  I  trust,  Mademoiselle?"  he 
asked,  bowing  low  over  her  fingers. 

"Excellently,"  replied  Louise.  "Will  you  not  take  me 
in  to  luncheon  ?  The  car  is  full  of  men  and  I  am  not  com- 
fortable alone.  It  is  not  pleasant,  either,  to  eat  with  one's 
maids." 

"I  am  honored,"  he  declared.  "Will  you  permit  me 
for  one  moment?" 

He  turned  and  spoke  to  his  companions.  Louise  saw 
at  once  that  they  were  protesting  vigorously.  She  saw, 
too,  that  Von  Behrling  only  became  more  obstinate  and 
that  he  was  very  nearly  angry.  She  moved  a  few  steps 
on  down  the  corridor,  and  stood  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow. He  joined  her  almost  immediately. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "they  will  be  serving  luncheon  in 
five  minutes.  We  will  go  and  take  a  good  place." 


"VON    BEHRLING    HAS    PACKET'       37 

"Your  friends,  I  am  afraid,"  she  remarked,  "did  not 
like  your  leaving  them.  They  are  not  very  gallant." 

"To  me  it  is  indifferent,"  he  answered,  fiercely  twirling 
his  moustache.  "Streuss  there  is  an  old  fool.  He  has 
always  some  fancy  in  his  brain." 

Louise  raised  her  eyebrows  slightly. 

"  You  are  your  own  master,  I  suppose,"  she  said.  "  The 
Baron  is  used  to  command  his  policemen,  and  sometimes 
he  forgets.  There  are  many  people  who  find  him  too 
autocratic." 

"He  means  well,"  Von  Behrling  asserted.  "It  is  his 
manner  only  which  is  against  him." 

They  found  a  comfortable  table,  and  she  sat  smiling 
at  him  across  the  white  cloth. 

"If  this  is  not  Sachers,"  she  said,  "it  is  at  least  more 
pleasant  than  lunching  alone." 

"I  can  assure  you,  Mademoiselle,"  he  declared,  with 
a  vigorous  twirl  of  his  moustache,  "  that  I  find  it  so." 

"Always  gallant,"  she  murmured.  "Tell  me,  is  it 
true  of  you  —  the  news  which  I  heard  just  before  I  left 
Vienna?  Have  you  really  resigned  your  post  with  the 
Chancellor?" 

"You  heard  that?"  he  asked  slowly. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"I  heard  something  of  the  sort,"  she  admitted.  "To 
be  quite  candid  with  you,  I  think  it  was  reported  that 
the  Chancellor  was  making  a  change  on  his  own  account." 

"So  that  is  what  they  say,  is  it?  What  do  they  know 
about  it  — these  gossipers?" 

"You  were  not  allowed  at  the  conference  yesterday," 
she  remarked. 

"  No  one  was  allowed  there,  so  that  goes  for  nothing." 

"  Ah !    well,"  she  said,  looking  meditatively  out  upon 


38  HAVOC 

the  landscape,  "  a  year  ago  the  thought  of  that  conference 
would  have  driven  me  wild.  I  should  not  have  been  con- 
tent until  I  had  learned  somehow  or  other  what  had 
transpired.  Lately,  I  am  afraid,  my  interest  in  my  coun- 
try seems  to  have  grown  a  trifle  cold.  Perhaps  because 
I  have  lived  in  Vienna  I  have  learned  to  look  at  things 
from  your  point  of  view.  Then,  too,  the  world  is  a  selfish 
place,  and  our  own  little  careers  are,  after  all,  the  most 
important  part  of  it." 

Von  Behrling  eyed  her  curiously. 

"It  seems  strange  to  hear  you  talk  like  this,"  he 
remarked. 

She  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a  moment. 

"  Oh !  I  still  love  my  country,  in  a  way,"  she  an- 
swered, "and  I  still  hate  all  Austrians,  in  a  way,  but  it 
is  not  as  it  used  to  be  with  me,  I  must  admit.  If  we  had 
two  lives,  I  would  give  one  to  my  country  and  keep  one 
for  myself.  Since  we  have  only  one,  I  am  afraid,  after 
all,  that  I  am  human,  and  I  want  to  taste  some  of  its 
pleasures." 

"Some  of  its  pleasures,"  Von  Behrling  repeated,  a 
little  gloomily.  "Ah,  that  is  easy  enough  for  you, 
Mademoiselle!" 

"Not  so  easy  as  it  may  appear,"  she  answered.  "One 
needs  many  things  to  get  the  best  out  of  life.  One  needs 
wealth  and  one  needs  love,  and  one  needs  them  while  one 
is  young,  while  one  can  enjoy." 

"  It  is  true,"  Von  Behrling  admitted,  —  "  quite  true." 

"If  one  is  not  careful,"  she  continued,  "one  lets  the 
years  slip  by.  They  can  never  come  again.  If  one  does 
not  live  while  one  is  young,  there  is  no  other  chance." 

Von  Behrling  assented  with  renewed  gloom.  He  was 
twenty-five  years  old,  and  his  income  barely  paid  for  his 


"VON    BEHRLING    HAS    PACKET'       39 

uniforms.  Of  late,  this  fact  had  materially  interfered 
with  his  enjoyments. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said,  "  that  you  should  talk  like  this. 
You  have  the  world  at  your  feet,  Mademoiselle.  You 
have  only  to  throw  the  handkerchief." 

Her  lips  parted  in  a  dazzling  smile.  The  bluest  eyes 
in  the  world  grew  softer  as  they  looked  into  his.  Von 
Behrling  felt  his  cheeks  burn. 

"My  friend,  it  is  not  so  easy,"  she  murmured.  "Tell 
me,"  she  continued,  "why  it  is  that  you  have  so  little 
self-confidence.  Is  it  because  you  are  poor?" 

"  I  am  a  beggar,"  —  bitterly. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Well,"  she  said,  glancing  down  the  menu  which  the 
waiter  had  brought,  "if  you  are  poor  and  content  to  re- 
main so,  one  must  presume  that  you  have  compensations." 

"But  I  have  none!"  he  declared.  "You  should  know 
that  — you,  Mademoiselle.  Life  for  me  means  one  thing 
and  one  thing  only  ! " 

She  looked  at  him,  for  a  moment,  and  down  upon  the 
tablecloth.  Von  Behrling  shook  like  a  man  in  the  throes 
of  some  great  passion. 

"We  talk  too  intimately,"  she  whispered,  as  the  people 
began  to  file  in  to  take  their  places.  "After  luncheon  we 
will  take  our  coffee  in  my  coupe.  Then,  if  you  like,  we 
will  speak  of  these  matters.  I  have  a  headache.  Will 
you  order  me  some  champagne?  It  is  a  terrible  thing,  I 
know,  to  drink  wine  in  the  morning,  but  when  one  travels, 
what  can  one  do?  Here  come  your  bodyguard.  They 
look  at  me  as  though  I  had  stolen  you  away.  Re- 
member we  take  our  coffee  together  afterwards.  I  am 
bored  with  so  much  traveling,  and  I  look  to  you  to  amuse 
me." 


40  HAVOC 

Von  Behrling's  journey  was,  after  all,  marked  with 
sharp  contrasts.  The  kindness  of  the  woman  whom  he 
adored  was  sufficient  in  itself  to  have  transported  him 
into  a  seventh  heaven.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  trouble 
with  his  friends.  Streuss  drew  him  on  one  side  at  Ostend, 
and  talked  to  him  plainly. 

"Von  Behrling,"  he  said,  "I  speak  to  you  on  behalf  of 
Kahn  and  myself.  Wine  and  women  and  pleasure  are 
good  things.  We  two,  we  love  them,  perhaps,  as  you  do, 
but  there  is  a  place  and  a  time  for  them,  and  it  is  not  now. 
Our  mission  is  too  serious." 

"Well,  well!"  Von  Behrling  exclaimed  impatiently, 
"  what  is  all  this  ?  What  do  I  do  wrong  ?  What  have  you 
to  say  against  me?  If  I  talk  with  Mademoiselle  Idiale, 
it  is  because  it  is  the  natural  thing  for  me  to  do.  Would 
you  have  us  three  —  you  and  Kahn  and  myself  —  travel 
arm  in  arm  and  speak  never  a  word  to  our  fellow  pas- 
sengers? Would  you  have  us  proclaim  to  all  the  world 
that  we  are  on  a  secret  mission,  carrying  a  secret  docu- 
ment, to  obtain  which  we  have  already  committed  a 
crime?  These  are  old-fashioned  methods,  Streuss.  It 
is  better  that  we  behave  like  ordinary  mortals.  You  talk 
foolishly,  Streuss!" 

"It  is  you,"  the  older  man  declared,  "who  play  the 
fool,  and  we  will  not  have  it !  Mademoiselle  Idiale  is 
a  Servian  and  a  patriot.  She  is  the  friend,  too,  of  Bellamy, 
the  Englishman.  She  and  he  were  together  last  night." 

"Bellamy  is  not  even  on  the  train,"  Von  Behrling  pro- 
tested. "He  went  north  to  Berlin.  That  itself  is  the 
proof  that  they  know  nothing.  If  he  had  had  the  merest 
suspicion,  do  you  not  think  that  he  would  have  stayed 
with  us?" 

"Bellamy  is  very  clever,"  Streuss  answered.     "There 


'VON    BEHRLING    HAS    PACKET'       41 

are  too  many  of  us  to  deal  with,  —  he  knew  that.  Made- 
moiselle Idiale  is  clever,  too.  Remember  that  half  the 
trouble  in  life  has  come  about  through  false  women." 

"What  is  it  that  you  want?"  Von  Behrling  demanded. 

"That  you  travel  the  rest  of  the  way  with  us,  and  speak 
no  more  with  Mademoiselle." 

Von  Behrling  drew  himself  up.  After  all,  it  was  he  who 
was  noble;  Streuss  was  little  more  than  a  policeman. 

"I  refuse!"  he  exclaimed.  "Let  me  remind  you, 
Streuss,  that  I  am  in  charge  of  this  expedition.  It  was  I 
who  planned  it.  It  was  I"  —he  dropped  his  voice  and 
touched  his  chest  —  "  who  struck  the  first  blow  for  its 
success.  I  think  tftat  we  need  talk  no  more,"  he  went  on. 
"I  welcome  your  companionship.  It  makes  for  strength 
that  we  travel  together.  But  for  the  rest,  the  enterprise 
has  been  mine,  the  success  so  far  has  been  mine,  and  the 
termination  of  it  shall  be  mine.  Watch  me,  if  you  like. 
Stay  with  me  and  see  that  I  am  not  robbed,  if  you  fear 
that  I  am  not  able  to  take  care  of  myself,  but  do  not  ask 
me  to  behave  like  an  idiot." 

Von  Behrling  stepped  away  quickly.  The  siren  was 
already  blowing  from  the  steamer. 


CHAPTER  VI 

VON    BEHRLING   IS    TEMPTED 

* 

THE  night  was  dark  but  fine,  and  the  crossing  smooth. 
Louise,  wrapped  in  furs,  abandoned  her  private  cabin 
directly  they  had  left  the  harbor,  and  had  a  chair  placed 
on  the  upper  deck.  Von  Behrling  found  her  there,  but 
not  before  they  were  nearly  half-way  across.  She  beck- 
oned him  to  her  side.  Her  eyes  glowed  at  him  through 
the  darkness. 

"You  are  not  looking  after  me,  my  friend,"  she  de- 
clared. "By  myself  I  had  to  find  this  place." 

Von  Behrling  was  ruffled.  He  was  also  humbly 
apologetic. 

"  It  is  those  idiots  who  are  with  me,"  he  said.  "  All  the 
time  they  worry." 

She  laughed  and  drew  him  down  so  that  she  could 
whisper  in  his  ear. 

" I  know  what  it  is,"  she  said.  "You  have  secrets  which 
you  are  taking  to  London,  and  they  are  afraid  of  me  be- 
cause I  am  a  Servian.  Tell  me,  is  it  not  so?  Perhaps, 
even,  they  think  that  I  am  a  spy." 

Von  Behrling  hesitated.  She  drew  him  closer  towards 
her. 

"Sit  down  on  the  deck,"  she  continued,  "and  lean 
against  the  rail.  You  are  too  big  to  talk  to  up  there. 
So !  Now  you  can  come  underneath  my  rug.  Tell  me, 
are  they  afraid  of  me,  your  friends?" 

"Is  it  without  reason?"    he  asked.     "Would  not  f*  - 


VON    BEHRLING    IS    TEMPTED        43 

one  be  afraid  of  you  —  if,  indeed,  they  believed  that  you 
wished  to  know  our  secrets?  I  wonder  if  there  is  a  man 
alive  whom  you  could  not  turn  round  your  little  finger." 

She  laughed  at  him  softly. 

"Ah,  no!"  she  said.  "Men  are  not  like  that,  nowa- 
days. They  talk  and  they  talk,  but  it  is  not  much  they 
would  do  for  a  woman's  sake." 

"You  believe  that?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  do,  indeed.  One  reads  love-stories  —  no,  I  do  not 
mean  romances,  but  memoirs  —  memoirs  of  the  French 
and  Austrian  Courts  —  memoirs,  even,  written  by  Eng- 
lishmen. Men  were  different  a  generation  ago.  Honor 
was  dear  to  them  then,  honor  and  position  and  wealth, 
and  yet  there  were  many,  very  many  then  who  were  will- 
ing to  give  all  these  things  for  the  love  of  a  woman." 

"  And  do  you  think  there  are  none  now  ?"  he  whispered 
hoarsely 

"My  friend,"  she  answered,  looking  down  at  him,  "I 
think  that  there  are  very  few." 

She  heard  his  breath  come  fast  between  his  teeth,  and 
she  realized  his  state  of  excitement. 

"Mademoiselle  Louise,"  he  said,  "my  love  for  you 
has  made  me  a  laughing-stock  in  the  clubs  of  Vienna. 
I — the  poverty-stricken,  who  have  nothing  but  a  noble 
name,  nothing  to  offer  you  —  have  dared  to  show  others 
what  I  think,  have  dared  to  place  you  in  my  heart  above 
all  the  women  on  earth." 

"It  is  very  nice  of  you,"  she  murmured.  "Why  do 
you  tell  me  this  now  ? " 

"  Why,  indeed  ?"  he  answered.  "  What  have  I  to  hope 
for?" 

She  looked  along  the  deck.  Not  a  dozen  yards  away, 
two  cigar  ends  burned  red  through  the  gloom.  She  knew 


44  HAVOC 

very  well  that  those  cigar  ends  belonged  to  Streuss  and 
his  friend.  She  laughed  softly  and  once  more  she  bent 
her  head. 

"  How  they  watch  you,  those  men  !"  she  said.  "  Listen, 
my  friend  Rudolph.  Supposing  their  fears  were  true, 
supposing  I  were  really  a  spy,  supposing  I  offered  you 
wealth  and  with  it  whatever  else  you  might  claim  from 
me,  for  the  secret  which  you  carry  to  England !" 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  am  carrying  a  secret?"  he 
asked  hoarsely. 

She  laughed. 

"My  friend,"  she  said,  "with  your  two  absurd  com- 
panions shadowing  you  all  the  time  and  glowering  at  me, 
how  could  one  possibly  doubt  it  ?  The  Baron  Streuss  is, 
I  believe,  the  Chief  of  your  Secret  Service  Department, 
is  he  not?  To  me  he  seems  the  most  obvious  policeman 
I  ever  saw  dressed  as  a  gentleman." 

"  You  don't  mean  it ! "  he  muttered.  "  You  can't 
mean  what  you  said  just  now !" 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Some  one  passing 
struck  a  match,  and  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  white 
face  of  the  man  who  sat  by  her  side  —  strained  now  and 
curiously  intense. 

"Supposing  I  did!" 

"You  must  be  mad!"  he  declared.  "You  must  not 
talk  to  me  like  this,  Mademoiselle.  I  have  no  secret.  It 
is  your  humor,  I  know,  but  it  is  dangerous." 

"There  is  no  danger,"  she  murmured,  "for  we  are 
alone.  I  say  again,  Rudolph,  supposing  this  were 
true?" 

His  hand  passed  across  his  forehead.  She  fancied  that 
he  made  a  motion  as  though  to  rise  to  his  feet,  but  she 
laid  her  hand  upon  his. 


VON    BEHRLING    IS    TEMPTED        45 

"Stay  here,"  she  whispered.  "No,  I  do  not  wish  to 
drive  you  away.  Now  you  are  here  you  shall  listen  to 
me." 

"But  you  are  not  in  earnest!"  he  faltered.  "Don't 
tell  me  that  you  are  in  earnest.  It  is  treason.  I  am 
Rudolph  Von  Behrling,  Secretary  to  the  Chancellor." 

Again  she  leaned  towards  him  so  that  he  could  see  into 
her  eyes. 

"Rudolph,"  she  said,  "you  are  indeed  Rudolph  Von 
Behrling,  you  are  indeed  the  Chancellor's  secretary. 
What  do  you  gain  from  it  ?  A  pittance !  Many  hours 
work  a  day  and  a  pittance.  What  have  you  to  look  for- 
ward to?  A  little  official  life,  a  stupid  official  position. 
Rudolph,  here  am  I,  and  there  is  the  world.  Do  I  not 
represent  other  things?" 

"God  knows  you  do!"  he  muttered. 

"  I,  too,  am  weary  of  singing.  I  want  a  long  rest  —  a 
long  rest  and  a  better  name  than  my  own.  Don't  shrink 
away  from  me.  It  is  n't  so  wonderful,  after  all.  Bellamy, 
the  Englishman,  came  to  me  a  few  hours  ago.  He  was 
Dorward's  friend.  He  knew  well  what  Dorward  carried. 
It  was  not  his  affair,  he  told  me,  and  interposition  from 
him  was  hopeless,  but  he  knew  that  you  and  I  were 
friends." 

"You  must  stop!"  Von  Behrling  declared.  "You 
must  stop  !  I  must  not  listen  to  this  !" 

"He  offered  me  twenty  thousand  pounds,"  she  went 
on,  "for  the  packet  in  your  pocket.  Think  of  that,  my 
friend.  It  would  be  a  start  in  life,  would  it  not  ?  I  am  an 
extravagant  woman.  Even  if  I  would,  I  dared  not  think 
of  a  poor  man.  But  twenty  thousand  pounds  is  sufficient. 
When  I  reach  London,  I  am  going  to  a  flat  which  has 
been  waiting  for  me  for  weeks  — 15,  Dover  Street.  If 


46  HAVOC 

you  bring  that  packet  to  me  instead  of  taking  it  to  the 
Austrian  Embassy,  there  will  be  twenty  thousand  pounds 
and  — " 

Her  fingers  suddenly  held  his.  She  could  almost  hear 
his  heart  beating.  Her  eyes,  by  now  accustomed  to  the 
gloom,  could  see  the  tumult  which  was  passing  within 
the  man,  reflected  in  his  face.  She  whispered  a  warning 
under  her  breath.  The  two  cigar  ends  had  moved 
nearer.  The  forms  of  the  two  men  were  now  distinct. 
One  was  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  ship  by  Von  Behr- 
ling's  side.  The  other  stood  a  few  feet  away,  gazing  at 
the  lights  of  Dover.  Von  Behrling  staggered  to  his  feet. 
He  said  something  in  an  angry  undertone  to  Streuss. 
Louise  rose  and  shook  out  her  furs. 

"My  friend,"  she  said,  turning  to  Von  Behrling,  "if 
your  friends  can  spare  you  so  long,  will  you  fetch  one 
of  my  maids?  You  will  find  them  both  in  my  cabin, 
number  three.  I  wish  to  walk  for  a  few  moments  before 
we  arrive.  ' 

Von  Behrling  turned  away  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 
Mademoiselle  Idiale  followed  him  slowly,  and  behind 
her  came  Von  Behrling's  companions. 

The  details  of  the  great  singer's  journey  had  been  most 
carefully  planned  by  an  excited  manager  who  had  re- 
ceived the  telegram  announcing  her  journey  to  London. 
There  was  an  engaged  carriage  at  Dover,  into  which  she 
was  duly  escorted  by  a  representative  of  the  Opera  Syndi- 
cate, who  had  been  sent  down  from  London  to  receive 
her.  Von  Behrling  seemed  to  be  missing.  She  had  seen 
nothing  of  him  since  he  had  descended  to  summon  her 
maids.  But  just  as  the  train  was  starting,  she  heard  the 
sound  of  angry  voices,  and  a  moment  later  his  white 


VON    BEHRLING    IS    TEMPTED        47 

face  was  pressed  through  the  open  window  of  the 
carriage. 

"  Louise,"  he  muttered,  "  I  am  on  fire !  I  cannot  talk 
to  you !  I  fear  that  they  suspect  something.  They  have 
told  me  that  if  I  travel  with  you  they  will  force  their  way 
in.  Even  now,  Streuss  comes.  Listen  for  your  telephone 
to-night  or  whenever  I  can.  I  must  think  —  I  must 
think!" 

He  passed  on,  and  Louise,  leaning  back  in  her  seat, 
closed  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER 

"  WE  PLAY  FOR  GREAT  STAKES  " 

BELLAMY,  travel-stained  and  weary,  arrived  at  his  rooms 
at  two  o'clock  on  the  following  afternoon  to  find  amongst 
a  pile  of  correspondence  a  penciled  message  awaiting 
him  in  a  handwriting  he  knew  well.  He  tore  open  the 
envelope. 

DAVID  DEAR,  —  I  have  just  arrived  and  I  am  sending  you 
these  few  lines  at  once.  As  to  what  progress  I  have  made,  I 
cannot  say  for  certain,  but  there  is  a  chance.  You  had  better 
get  the  money  ready  and  come  to  me  here.  If  R.  could  only 
escape  from  Streuss  and  those  who  watch  him  all  the  time,  I 
should  be  quite  sure,  but  they  are  suspicious.  What  may  hap- 
pen I  cannot  tell.  I  do  my  best  and  I  have  hated  it.  Get  the 
money  ready  and  come  to  me. 

LOUISE. 

Bellamy  drew  a  little  breath  and  tore  the  note  into 
pieces.  Then  he  rang  for  his  servant. 

"A  bath  and  some  clean  clothes  quickly,"  he  ordered. 
"While  I  am  changing,  ring  up  Downing  Street  and  see 
if  Sir  James  is  there.  If  not,  find  out  exactly  where  he 
is.  I  must  see  him  within  half  an  hour.  Afterwards, 
get  me  a  taxicab." 

The  man  obeyed  with  the  swift  efficiency  of  the  thor- 
oughly trained  servant.  In  rather  less  than  the  time 
which  he  had  stated,  Bellamy  had  left  his  rooms.  Before 
four  o'clock  he  had  arrived  at  the  address  which  Louise 


"WE  PLAY  FOR  GREAT  STAKES"  49 

had  given  him.  A  commissionaire  telephoned  his  name 
to  the  first  floor,  and  in  a  very  few  moments  a  pale-faced 
French  man-servant,  in  sombre  black  livery,  descended 
and  bowed  to  Bellamy. 

"Monsieur  will  be  so  good  as  to  come  this  way,"  he 
directed. 

Bellamy  followed  him  into  the  lift,  which  stopped  at 
the  first  floor.  He  was  ushered  into  a  small  boudoir, 
already  smothered  with  roses. 

"Mademoiselle  will  be  here  immediately,"  the  man 
announced.  "She  is  engaged  with  a  gentleman  from  the 
Opera,  but  she  will  leave  him  to  receive  Monsieur." 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Pray  let  Mademoiselle  understand,"  he  said,  "that 
I  am  entirely  at  her  service.  My  time  is  of  no  consequence." 

The  man  bowed  and  withdrew.  Louise  came  to  him 
almost  directly  from  an  inner  chamber.  She  was  wearing 
a  loose  gown,  but  the  fatigue  of  her  journey  seemed  already 
to  have  passed  away.  Her  eyes  were  bright,  and  a  faint 
color  glowed  in  her  cheeks. 

"  David,"  she  exclaimed,  "  thank  Heaven  that  you  are 
here!" 

She  took  both  his  hands  and  held  them  for  a  momeat. 
Then  she  walked  to  the  door,  made  sure  that  it  was  securely 
fastened,  and  stood  there  listening  for  a  moment. 

"I  suppose  I  am  foolish,"  she  said,  coming  back  to 
him,  "and  yet  I  cannot  help  fancying  that  I  am  being 
watched  on  every  side  since  we  landed  in  England.  I 
detest  my  new  manager,  and  I  don't  trust  any  of  the  ser- 
vants he  has  engaged  for  me.  You  got  my  note?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  had  your  note  —  and  I  am 
here." 

The  restraint  of  his  manner  was  obvious.     He  was 


50  HAVOC 

standing  a  little  away  from  her.  She  came  suddenly  up 
to  him,  her  hands  fell  upon  his  shoulders,  her  face  was 
upturned  to  his.  Even  then  he  made  no  motion  to 
embrace  her. 

"  David,"  she  whispered  softly,  "  what  I  am  doing  — 
what  I  have  done  —  was  at  your  suggestion.  I  do  it  for 
you,  I  do  it  for  my  country,  I  do  it  against  every  natural 
feeling  I  possess.  I  hate  and  loathe  the  lies  I  tell.  Are 
you  remembering  that?  Is  it  in  your  heart  at  this 
moment?" 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "it  is  I  who  am  to  blame,  but  I 
am  only  human.  We  play  for  great  stakes,  Louise,  but 
sometimes  one  forgets." 

"As  I  live,"  she  murmured,  "the  kiss  you  gave  me 
last  is  still  upon  my  lips.  What  I  have  promised  goes  for 
nothing.  What  he  has  promised  is  this  —  the  papers 
to-night." 

"Unopened?" 

"Unopened,"  she  repeated,  softly. 

"But  how  is  it  to  be  done?"  Bellamy  asked.  "He 
must  have  arrived  in  London  when  you  did  last  night. 
How  is  it  they  are  not  already  at  the  Embassy  ? " 

"The  Ambassador  was  commanded  to  Cowes,"  she 
explained.  "He  cannot  be  back  until  late  to-night.  No 
one  else  has  a  key  to  the  treaty  safe,  and  Von  Behrling 
declined  to  give  up  the  document  to  any  one  save  the 
Ambassador  himself." 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"What  about  Streuss?" 

"Streuss  and  the  others  are  all  furious,"  Louise  said. 
"Yet,  after  all,  Behrling  has  a  certain  measure  of  right 
on  his  side.  His  orders  were  to  see  with  his  own  eyes 


'WE  PLAY  FOR  GREAT  STAKES"  51 

this  envelope  deposited  in  the  safe  by  the  Ambassador 
himself." 

"He  returns  to-night!"   Bellamy  exclaimed  quickly. 

She  nodded. 

"Before  he  comes,"  she  declared,  "I  think  that  the 
document  will  be  in  your  hands." 

"  How  is  it  to  be  done  ?  " 

"The  report  is  written,"  she  explained,  "on  five  pages 
of  foolscap.  They  are  contained  in  a  long  envelope, 
sealed  with  the  Chancellor's  crest.  Von  Behrling,  being 
one  of  the  family,  has  the  same  crest.  He  has  prepared 
another  envelope,  the  same  size  and  weight,  and  signed 
it  with  his  seal.  It  is  this  which  he  will  hand  over  to  the 
Ambassador  if  he  should  return  unexpectedly.  The  real 
one  he  has  concealed." 

"Is  he  here?"  Bellamy  inquired. 

"Thank  Heavens,  no!"  she  answered.  "My  dear 
David,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  He  is  not  here  and  he 
dare  not  come  here.  You  are  to  go  to  your  rooms,"  she 
added,  glancing  at  the  clock,  "and  between  five  and  six 
o'clock  this  evening  you  will  be  rung  up  on  the  tele- 
phone. A  rendezvous  will  be  given  you  for  later  on  to- 
night. You  must  take  the  money  there  and  receive  the 
packet.  Von  Behrling  will  be  disguised  and  prepared  for 
flight." 

Bellamy's  eyes  glowed. 

"You  believe  this?"    he  exclaimed. 

"I  believe  it,"  she  replied.  "He  is  going  to  do  it. 
After  he  has  seen  you,  he  will  make  his  way  to  Plymouth. 
I  have  promised  —  don't  look  at  me,  David  —  I  have 
promised  to  join  him  there." 

Bellamy  was  grave. 

"There  will  be  trouble,"  he  said.    "He  will  come  back. 


52  HAVOC 

He  will  want  to  shoot  you.  He  may  be  slow-witted  in 
some  things,  but  he  is  passionate." 

"Am  I  a  coward?"  she  asked,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
"  Have  I  ever  shown  fear  of  my  life  ?  No,  David !  It 
is  not  that  of  which  I  am  afraid.  It  is  the  memory  of  the 
man's  touch,  it  is  the  look  which  was  in  your  face  when 
you  came  into  the  room.  These  are  the  things  I  fear  — 
not  death." 

Bellamy  drew  her  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  begged.  "At  such  times  a  man  is  a 
weak  thing  —  a  weak  and  selfish  thing.  I  am  ashamed 
of  myself.  I  should  have  known  better  than  to  have 
doubted  you  for  a  moment.  I  know  you  so  well,  Louise. 
I  know  what  you  are." 

She  smiled. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "you  have  made  me  happy.  And 
now  you  must  go  away.  Remember  that  these  few  minutes 
are  only  an  interlude.  Over  here  I  am  Mademoiselle 
Idiale  who  sings  to-night  at  Covent  Garden.  See  my 
roses.  There  are  two  rooms  full  of  reporters  and  photog- 
raphers in  the  place  now.  The  leader  of  the  orchestra 
is  in  my  bedroom,  and  two  of  the  directors  are  drinking 
whiskies  and  sodas  with  this  new  manager  of  mine  in 
the  dining-room.  Between  five  and  six  o'clock  this  after- 
noon you  will  get  the  message.  It  is  somewhere,  I  think, 
in  the  city  that  you  will  have  to  go.  There  will  be  no 
trouble  about  the  money?  Nothing  but  notes  or  gold 
will  be  of  any  use." 

"I  have  it  in  my  pocket,"  he  answered.  "I  have  it  in 
notes,  but  he  need  never  fear  that  they  will  be  traced. 
The  numbers  of  notes  given  for  Secret  Service  purposes 
are  expunged  from  every  one's  memory." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh. 


"WE  PLAY  FOR  GREAT  STAKES"  53 

"It  is  a  great  sum,"  she  said.  "After  all,  he  should  be 
grateful  to  me.  If  only  he  would  be  sensible  and  get 
away  to  the  United  States  or  to  South  America !  He 
could  live  there  like  a  prince,  poor  fellow.  He  would  be 
far  happier." 

"  I  only  hope  that  he  will  go,"  Bellamy  agreed.  "  There 
is  one  thing  to  be  remembered.  If  he  does  not  go,  if  he 
stays  for  twenty-four  hours  in  this  country,  I  do  not  believe 
that  he  will  live  to  do  you  harm.  The  men  who  are  with 
him  are  not  the  sort  to  stop  short  at  trifles.  Besides 
Streuss  and  Kahn,  they  have  a  regular  army  of  spies  at 
their  bidding  here.  If  they  find  out  that  he  has  tricked 
them,  they  will  hunt  him  down,  and  before  long." 

Louise  shivered. 

"Oh,  I  hope,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  he  gets  away!  He 
is  a  traitor,  of  course,  but  he  is  a  traitor  to  a  hateful  cause, 
and,  after  all,  I  think  it  is  less  for  the  money  than  for  my 
sake  that  he  does  it.  That  sounds  very  conceited,  I  sup- 
pose," she  added,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Ah !  well,  you 
see,  for  five  years  so  many  have  been  trying  to  turn  my 
head.  No  wonder  if  I  begin  to  believe  some  of  their  stories. 
David,  I  must  go.  I  must  not  keep  Dr.  Henschell  waiting 
any  longer." 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  "to-morrow  early  I  shall  come. 
I  am  afraid  I  shall  miss  your  first  appearance  in  England, 
Louise." 

The  sound  of  a  violin  came  floating  out  from  the  inner 
room. 

"That  is  my  signal,"  she  declared  smiling.  "Dr. 
Henschell  was  almost  beside  himself  that  I  came  away. 
I  come,  Doctor,"  she  called  out.  "David,  good  fortune !" 
she  added,  giving  him  her  hands.  "Now  go,  dear."' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    HAND    OF    MISFORTUNE 

BETWEEN  the  two  men,  seated  opposite  each  other  in 
the  large  but  somewhat  barely  furnished  office,  the  radical 
differences,  both  in  appearance  and  mannerisms,  perhaps, 
also,  in  disposition,  had  never  been  more  strongly  evident. 
They  were  partners  in  business  and  face  to  face  with 
ruin.  Stephen  Laverick,  senior  member  of  the  firm, 
although  an  air  of  steadfast  gloom  had  settled  upon  his 
clean-cut,  powerful  countenance,  retained  even  in  despair 
something  of  that  dogged  composure,  temperamental  and 
wholly  British,  which  had  served  him  well  along  the  road 
to  fortune.  Arthur  Morrison,  the  man  who  sat  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  a  Jew  to  his  finger-tips  notwithstand- 
ing his  altered  name,  sat  like  a  broken  thing,  with  tears  in 
his  terrified  eyes,  disordered  hair,  and  parchment-pale 
face.  Words  had  flown  from  his  lips  in  a  continual  stream. 
He  floundered  in  his  misery,  sobbed  about  it  like  a  child. 
The  hand  of  misfortune  had  stripped  him  naked,  and  one 
man,  at  least,  saw  him  as  he  really  was. 

"  I  can't  stand  it,  Laverick,  —  I  could  n't  face  them 
all.  It's  too  cruel — too  horrible!  Eighteen  thousand 
pounds  gone  in  one  week,  forty  thousand  in  a  month ! 
Forty  thousand  pounds  !  Oh,  my  God  ! " 

He  writhed  in  agony.  The  man  on  the  other  side  of 
the  table  said  nothing. 

"  If  we  could  only  have  held  on  a  little  longer !  '  Unions ' 
must  turn  !  They  will  turn  !  Laverick,  have  you  tried  all 


THE    HAND    OF    MISFORTUNE        55 

your  friends  ?  Think  !  Have  you  tried  them  all  ?  Twenty, 
thousand  pounds  would  see  us  through  it.  We  should  get 
our  own  money  back  —  I  am  sure  of  it.  There's  Rendell, 
Laverick.  He'd  do  anything  for  you.  You're  always 
shooting  or  playing  cricket  with  him.  Have  you  asked 
him,  Laverick?  He'd  never  miss  the  money." 

"You  and  I  see  things  differently,  Morrison,"  Laverick 
answered.  "Nothing  would  induce  me  to  borrow  money 
from  a  friend." 

"  But  at  a  time  like  this,"  Morrison  pleaded  passionately. 
"Everj"  one  does  it  sometimes.  He'd  be  glad  to  help  you. 
I  know  he  would.  Have  you  ever  thought  what  it  will  be 
like,  Laverick,  to  be  hammered?" 

"I  have,"  Laverick  admitted  wearily.  "God  knows 
it  seems  as  terrible  a  thing  to  me  as  it  can  to  you !  But 
if  we  go  down,  we  must  go  down  with  clean  hands.  I've 
no  faith  in  your  infernal  market,  and  not  one  penny  will 
I  borrow  from  a  friend." 

The  Jew's  face  was  almost  piteous.  He  stretched  him- 
self across  the  table.  There  were  genuine  tears  in  his 
eyes. 

"Laverick,"  he  said,  "old  man,  you're  wrong.  I  know 
you  think  I've  been  led  away.  I've  taken  you  out  of  our 
depth,  but  the  only  trouble  has  been  that  we  have  n't  had 
enough  capital,  and  no  backing.  Those  who  stand  up 
will  win.  They  will  make  money." 

"Unfortunately,"  Laverick  remarked,  "we  cannot 
stand  up.  Please  understand  that  I  will  not  discuss  this 
matter  with  you  in  any  way.  I  will  not  borrow  money 
from  Rendell  or  any  friend.  I  have  asked  the  bank 
and  I  have  asked  Pages,  who  will  be  our  largest  creditors. 
To  help  us  would  simply  be  a  business  proposition,  so 
far  as  they  are  concerned.  As  you  know,  they  have  re- 


56  HAVOC 

fused.  If  you  see  any  hope  in  that  direction,  why  don't 
you  try  some  of  your  own  friends  ?  For  every  one  man  I 
know  in  the  House,  you  have  seemed  to  be  bosom  friends 
with  at  least  twenty." 

Morrison  groaned. 

"Those  I  know  are  not  that  sort  of  friend,"  he  answered. 
"They  will  drink  with  you  and  spend  a  night  out  or  a 
week-end  at  Brighton,  but  they  do  not  lend  money.  If 
they  would,  do  you  think  I  would  mind  asking?  Why, 
I  would  go  on  my  knees  to  any  man  who  would  lend  us 
the  money.  I  would  even  kiss  his  feet.  I  cannot  bear  it, 
Laverick !  I  cannot !  I  cannot ! " 

Laverick  said  nothing.  Words  were  useless  things, 
wasted  upon  such  a  creature.  He  eyed  his  partner  with  a 
contempt  which  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal.  This,  then, 
was  the  smart  young  fellow  recommended  to  him  on  all 
sides,  a  few  years  ago,  as  one  of  the  shrewdest  young  men 
in  his  own  particular  department,  a  person  bound  to  suc- 
ceed, a  money-maker  if  ever  there  was  one !  Laverick 
thought  of  him  as  he  appeared  at  the  office  day  by  day, 
glossy  and  immaculately  dressed,  with  a  flower  in  his 
buttonhole,  boots  that  were  a  trifle  too  shiny,  hat  and 
coat,  gloves  and  manner,  all  imitation  but  all  very  near 
the  real  thing.  What  a  collapse  ! 

"  You  're  going  to  stay  and  see  it  through  ?  "  he  whined 
across  the  table. 

"Certainly,"  Laverick  answered. 

The  young  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"I  can't!  I  can't!"  he  moaned.  "I  couldn't  bear 
seeing  all  the  fellows,  hearing  them  whisper  things  —  oh, 
Lord!  Oh,  Lord!  .  .  .  Laverick,  we've  a  few  hundreds 
left.  Give  me  something  and  let  me  out  of  it.  You're  a 
stronger  sort  of  man  than  I  am.  You  can  face  it,  —  I 


THE    HAND    OF    MISFORTUNE         57 

can't !    Give  me  enough  to  get  abroad  with,  and  if  ever  I 
do  any  good  I'll  remember  it,  I  will  indeed." 

Laverick  was  silent  for  a  moment.  His  companion 
watched  his  face  eagerly.  After  all,  why  not  let  him  go? 
He  was  no  help,  no  comfort.  The  very  sight  of  him  was 
contemptible. 

"  I  have  paid  no  money  into  the  bank  for  several  days," 
Laverick  said  slowly.  "When  they  refused  to  help  us, 
it  was,  of  course,  obvious  that  they  guessed  how  things 
were." 

"Quite  right,  quite  right!"  the  young  man  interrupted 
feverishly.  "  They  would  have  stuck  to  it  against  the  over- 
draft. How  much  have  we  got  in  the  safe?" 

"This  afternoon,"  Laverick  continued,  "I  changed  all 
our  cheques.  You  can  count  the  proceeds  for  yourself. 
There  are,  I  think,  eleven  hundred  pounds.  You  can 
take  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  you  can  take  them  with 
you  —  to  any  place  you  like." 

The  young  man  was  already  at  the  safe.  The  notes 
were  between  them,  on  the  table.  He  counted  quickly 
with  the  fingers  of  a  born  manipulator  of  money.  When 
he  had  gathered  up  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  Lave- 
rick's  hand  fell  upon  his. 

"No  more,"  he  ordered  sternly. 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,"  Morrison  protested,  "half  of 
eleven  hundred  is  five  hundred  and  fifty.  Why  should 
we  not  go  halves  ?  That  is  only  fair,  Laverick.  It  is  little 
enough.  We  ought  to  have  had  a  great  deal  more." 

Laverick  pushed  him  contemptuously  away  and  locked 
up  the  remainder  of  the  notes. 

"I  am  letting  you  take  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
of  this  money,"  he  said,  "for  various  reasons.  For  one,  I 
can  bear  this  thing  better  alone.  As  for  the  rest  of  the 


58  HAVOC 

money,  it  remains  there  for  the  accountant  who  liquidates 
our  affairs.  I  do  not  propose  to  touch  a  penny  of  it." 

The  young  man  buttoned  up  his  coat  with  an  hysterical 
little  laugh.  Such  ways  were  not  his  ways.  They  were 
not,  indeed,  within  the  limit  of  his  understanding.  But 
of  his  partner  he  had  learned  one  thing,  at  least.  The 
word  of  Stephen  Laverick  was  the  word  of  truth.  He 
shambled  toward  the  door.  On  the  whole,  he  was  lucky 
to  have  got  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

"So  long,  Laverick,"  he  said  from  the  door.  "I'm 
—  I'm  sorry." 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  did  not  venture  to 
offer  his  hand.  Laverick  nodded,  not  unkindly.  After 
all,  this  young  man  was  as  he  had  been  made. 

"I  wish  you  good  luck,  Morrison,"  he  said.  "Try 
South  Africa." 


CHAPTER  IX 

BOBBING    THE    DEAD 

THE  roar  of  the  day  was  long  since  over.  The  rattle 
of  vehicles,  the  tinkling  of  hansom  bells,  the  tooting  of 
horns  from  motor-cars  and  cabs,  the  ceaseless  tramp  of 
footsteps,  all  had  died  away.  Outside,  the  streets  were 
almost  deserted.  An  occasional  wayfarer  passed  along 
the  flagged  pavement  with  speedy  footsteps.  Here  and 
there  a  few  lights  glimmered  at  the  windows  of  some  of 
the  larger  blocks  of  offices.  The  bustle  of  the  day  was 
finished.  There  is  no  place  in  London  so  strangely  quiet 
as  the  narrow  thoroughfares  of  the  city  proper  when  the 
hour  approaches  midnight. 

Laverick,  who  since  his  partner's  departure  had  been 
studying  with  infinite  care  his  private  ledger,  closed  it  at 
last  with  a  little  snap  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  After 
all,  save  that  he  had  got  rid  of  Morrison,  it  had  been  a 
wasted  evening.  Not  even  he,  whose  financial  astute- 
ness no  man  had  ever  questioned,  could  raise  from  those 
piles  of  figures  any  other  answer  save  the  one  inevitable 
one,  the  knowledge  of  which  had  been  like  a  black  night- 
mare stalking  by  his  side  for  the  last  thirty-six  hours. 
One  by  one  during  the  evening  his  clerks  had  left  him, 
and  it  was  a  proof  not  only  of  his  wonderful  self-control 
but  also  of  the  confidence  which  he  invariably  inspired, 
that  not  a  single  one  of  them  had  the  slightest  idea  how 
things  were.  Not  a  soul  knew  that  the  firm  of  Laverick 
&  Morrison  was  already  practically  derelict,  that  they 


60  HAVOC 

had  on  the  morrow  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  to  find, 
neither  credit  nor  balance  at  their  bankers,  and  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  in  the  safe. 

Laverick,  haggard  from  his  long  vigil,  locked  up  his 
books  at  last,  turned  out  the  lights,  and  locking  the  doors 
behind  him  walked  into  the  silent  street.  Instinctively 
he  turned  his  steps  westwards.  This  might  well  be  the 
last  night  on  which  he  would  care  to  show  himself  in  his 
accustomed  haunts,  the  last  night  on  which  he  could  mix 
with  his  fellows  freely,  and  without  that  terrible  sense 
of  consciousness  which  follows  upon  disaster.  Already 
there  was  little  enough  left  of  it.  It  was  too  late  to  change 
and  go  to  his  club.  The  places  of  amusement  were  already 
closed.  To-morrow  night,  both  club  and  theatres  would 
lie  outside  his  world.  He  walked  slowly,  yet  he  had 
scarcely  taken,  in  fact,  a  dozen  steps  when,  with  a  purely 
mechanical  impulse,  he  paused  by  a  stone-flagged  entry 
to  light  a  cigarette.  It  was  a  passage,  almost  a  tunnel 
for  a  few  yards,  leading  to  an  open  space,  on  one  side 
of  which  was  an  old  churchyard  —  strange  survival  in 
such  a  part  —  and  on  the  other  the  offices  of  several 
firms  of  stockbrokers,  a  Russian  banker,  an  actuary.  It 
was  the  barest  of  impulses  which  led  him  to  glance  up 
the  entry  before  he  blew  out  the  match.  Then  he  gave 
a  quick  start  and  became  for  a  moment  paralyzed.  Within 
a  few  feet  of  him  something  was  lying  on  the  ground  —  a 
dark  mass,  black  and  soft  —  the  body  of  a  man,  perhaps. 
Just  above  it,  a  pair  of  eyes  gleamed  at  him  through  the 
semi-darkness. 

Laverick  at  first  had  no  thought  of  tragedy.  It  might 
be  a  tramp  or  a  drunkard,  perhaps,  —  a  fight,  or  a  man 
taken  ill.  Then  something  sinister  about  the  light  of 
those  burning  eyes  set  his  heart  beating  faster.  He  struck 


ROBBING    THE    DEAD  61 

another  match  with  firm  fingers,  and  bent  forward.  What 
he  saw  upon  the  ground  made  him  feel  a  little  sick.  What 
he  saw  racing  away  down  the  passage  prompted  him  to 
swift  pursuit.  Down  the  arched  court  into  the  open  space 
he  ran,  himself  an  athlete,  but  mocked  by  the  swiftness  of 
the  shadowlike  form  which  he  pursued.  At  the  «nd  was 
another  street  —  empty.  He  looked  up  and  down,  seek- 
ing in  vain  for  any  signs  of  life.  There  was  nothing  to 
tell  him  which  way  to  turn.  Opposite  was  a  very  laby- 
rinth of  courts  and  turnings.  There  was  not  even  the 
sound  of  a  footfall  to  guide  him.  Slowly  he  retraced  his 
steps,  lit  another  match,  and  leaned  over  the  prostrate 
figure.  Then  he  knew  that  it  was  a  tragedy  indeed  upon 
which  he  had  stumbled. 

The  man  was  dead,  and  he  had  met  with  his  death  by 
unusual  means.  These  were  the  first  two  things  of  which 
Laverick  assured  himself.  Without  any  doubt,  a  savage 
and  a  terrible  crime  had  been  committed.  A  horn- 
handled  knife  of  unusual  length  had  been  driven  up  to 
the  hilt  through  the  heart  of  the  murdered  man.  There 
had  been  other  blows,  notably  about  the  head.  There 
was  not  much  blood,  but  the  position  of  the  knife  alone 
told  its  ugly  story.  Laverick,  though  his  nerves  were  of 
the  strongest,  felt  his  head  swim  as  he  looked.  He  rose 
to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  opening  of  the  passage, 
gasping.  The  street  was  no  longer  empty. 

About  thirty  yards  away,  looking  westwards,  a  man 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  The  light  from 
the  lamp-post  escaped  his  face.  Laverick  could  only  see 
that  he  was  slim,  of  medium  height,  dressed  in  dark 
clothes,  with  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  overcoat. 
To  all  appearance,  he  was  watching  the  entry.  Lave- 
rick took  a  step  towards  him  —  the  man  as  delib- 


62  HAVOC 

erately  took  a  step  further  away.  Laverick  held  up  his 
hand. 

"  Hullo  ! "  he  called  out,  and  beckoned. 

The  person  addressed  took  no  notice.  Laverick  ad- 
vanced another  two  or  three  steps  —  the  man  retreated 
a  similar  distance.  Laverick  changed  his  tactics  and 
made  a  sudden  spring  forward.  The  man  hesitated  no 
longer  —  he  turned  and  ran  as  though  for  his  life.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  was  round  the  corner  of  the  street  and 
out  of  sight.  Laverick  returned  slowly  to  the  entry. 

A  distant  clock  struck  midnight.  A  couple  of  clerks 
came  along  the  pavement  on  the  other  side,  their  hands 
and  arms  full  of  letters.  Laverick  hesitated.  He  was 
never  afterwards  able  to  account  for  the  impulse  which 
prevented  his  calling  out  to  them.  Instead  he  lurked  in 
the  shadows  and  watched  them  go  by.  When  he  was 
sure  that  they  had  disappeared,  he  bent  once  more  over 
the  body  of  the  murdered  man.  Already  that  huddled-up 
heap  was  beginning  to  exercise  a  nameless  and  terrible 
fascination  for  him.  His  first  feelings  of  horror  were 
mingled  now  with  an  insatiable  curiosity.  What  manner 
of  man  was  he?  He  was  tall  and  strongly  built;  fair 
—  of  almost  florid  complexion.  His  clothes  were  very 
shabby  and  apparently  ready-made.  His  moustache 
was  upturned,  and  his  hair  was  trimmed  closer  than  is 
the  custom  amongst  Englishmen.  Laverick  stooped 
lower  and  lower  until  he  found  himself  almost  on  his 
knees.  There  was  something  projecting  from  the  man's 
pocket  as  though  it  had  been  half  snatched  out  —  a  large 
portfolio  of  brown  leather,  almost  the  size  of  a  satchel. 
Laverick  drew  it  out,  holding  it  in  one  hand  whilst  with 
firm  fingers  he  struck  another  match.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  a  little  cry  broke  from  his  lips.  Both  sides  of  the 


ROBBING    THE    DEAD  63 

pocket-book  were  filled  with  bank-notes.  As  his  match 
flickered  out,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  figures  in  the 
left-hand  corner  —  £500  !  —  great  rolls  of  them  !  Lav- 
erick  rose  gasping  to  his  feet.  It  was  a  new  Arabian 
Nights,  this !  —  a  dream  !  —  a  continuation  of  the  night- 
mare which  had  threatened  him  all  day !  Or  was  it,  per- 
haps, the  madness  coming  —  the  madness  which  he  had 
begun  only  an  hour  or  so  ago  to  fear! 

He  walked  into  the  gaslit  streets  and  looked  up  and 
down.  The  mysterious  stranger  had  vanished.  There 
was  not  a  soul  in  sight.  He  clutched  the  rough  stone  wall 
with  his  hands,  he  kicked  the  pavement  with  his  heels. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  it  —  everything  around  him 
was  real.  Most  real  of  all  was  the  fact  that  within  a  few 
feet  of  him  lay  a  murdered  man,  and  that  in  his  hands 
was  that  brown  leather  pocket-book  with  its  miraculous 
contents.  For  the  last  time  Laverick  retraced  his  steps 
and  bent  over  that  huddled-up  shape.  One  by  one  he 
went  through  the  other  pockets.  There  was  a  packet  of 
Russian  cigarettes;  an  empty  card-case  of  chased  silver, 
and  obviously  of  foreign  workmanship;  a  cigarette 
holder  stained  with  much  use,  but  of  the  finest  amber, 
with  rich  gold  mountings.  There  was  nothing  else  upon 
the  dead  man,  no  means  of  identification  of  any  sort. 
Laverick  stood  up,  giddy,  half  terrified  with  the  thoughts 
that  went  tearing  through  his  brain.  The  pocket-book 
began  to  burn  his  hand;  he  felt  the  perspiration  break- 
ing out  anew  upon  his  forehead.  Yet  he  never  hesitated. 
He  walked  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  but  his  footsteps  were 
steady  and  short.  Deliberately,  and  without  any  sign 
of  hurry,  he  made  his  way  towards  his  offices.  If  a  police- 
man had  come  in  sight  up  or  down  the  street,  he  had 
decided  to  call  him  and  to  acquaint  him  with  what  had 


64  HAVOC 

happened.  It  was  the  one  chance  he  held  against  him- 
self, —  the  gambler's  method  of  decision,  perhaps,  un- 
consciously arrived  at.  As  it  turned  out,  there  was  still 
not  a  soul  in  sight.  Laverick  opened  the  outer  door  with 
his  latchkey,  let  himself  in  and  closed  it.  Then  he  groped 
his  way  through  the  clerk's  office  into  his  own  room, 
switched  on  the  electric  light  and  once  more  sat  down 
before  his  desk. 

He  drew  his  shaded  writing  lamp  towards  him  and 
looked  around  with  a  nervousness  wholly  unfamiliar. 
Then  he  opened  the  pocket-book,  drew  out  the  roll  of 
bank-notes  and  counted  them.  It  was  curious  that  he 
felt  no  surprise  at  their  value.  Bank-notes  for  five  hun- 
dred pounds  are  not  exactly  common,  and  yet  he  pro- 
ceeded with  his  task  without  the  slightest  instinct  of 
surprise.  Then  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  Twenty 
thousand  pounds  in  Bank  of  England  notes !  There 
they  lay  on  the  table  before  him.  A  man  had  died  for 
their  sake,  —  another  must  go  through  all  the  days  with 
the  price  of  blood  upon  his  hea'd  —  a  murderer  —  a 
haunted  creature  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  And  there  on  the 
table  were  the  spoils.  Laverick  tried  to  think  the  matter 
out  dispassionately.  He  was  a  man  of  average  moral 
fibre  —  that  is  to  say,  he  was  honest  in  his  dealings  with 
other  men  because  his  father  and  his  grandfather  before 
him  had  been  honest,  and  because  the  penalty  for  dis- 
honesty was  shameful.  Here,  however,  he  was  face  to 
face  with  an  altogether  unusual  problem.  These  notes 
belonged,  without  a  doubt,  to  the  dead  man.  Save  for 
his  own  interference,  they  would  have  been  in  the  hands 
of  his  murderer.  The  use  of  them  for  a  few  days  could 
do  no  one  any  harm.  Such  risk  as  there  was  he  took 


ROBBING    THE    DEAD  65 

himself.  That  it  was  a  risk  he  knew  and  fully  realized. 
Laverick  had  sat  in  his  place  unmoved  when  his  partner 
had  poured  out  his  wail  of  fear  and  misery.  Yet  of  the 
two  men  it  was  probable  that  Laverick  himself  had  felt 
their  position  the  more  keenly.  He  was  a  man  of  some 
social  standing,  with  a  large  circle  of  friends;  a  sports- 
man, and  with  many  interests  outside  the  daily  routine 
of  his  city  life.  To  him  failure  meant  more  than  the  loss 
of  money;  it  would  rob  him  of  everything  in  life  worth 
having.  The  days  to  come  had  been  emptied  of  all  promise. 
He  had  held  himself  stubbornly  because  he  was  a 
man,  because  he  had  strength  enough  to  refuse  to  let  his 
mind  dwell  upon  the  indignities  and  humiliation  to  come. 
And  here  before  him  was  possible  salvation.  There  was 
a  price  to  be  paid,  of  course,  a  risk  to  be  run  in  making 
use  even  for  an  hour  of  this  money.  Yet  from  the  first  he 
had  known  that  he  meant  to  do  it. 

Quite  cool  now,  he  opened  his  private  safe,  thrust  the 
pocket-book  into  one  of  the  drawers,  and  locked  it  up. 
Then  he  lit  a  cigarette,  finally  shut  up  the  office  and 
walked  down  the  street.  As  he  passed  the  entry  he  turned 
his  head  slowly.  Apparently  no  one  had  been  there, 
nothing  had  been  disturbed.  Straining  his  eyes  through 
the  darkness,  he  could  even  see  that  dark  shape  still 
lying  huddled  up  on  the  ground.  Then  he  walked  on. 
He  had  burned  his  boats  now  and  was  prepared  for  all 
emergencies.  At  the  corner  he  met  a  policeman,  to  whom 
he  wished  a  cheery  good-night.  He  told  himself  that  the 
thing  which  he  had  done  was  for  the  best.  He  owed  it  to 
himself.  He  owed  it  to  those  who  had  trusted  him.  After 
all,  it  was  the  chief  part  of  his  life  —  his  city  career.  It 
was  here  that  his  friends  lived.  It  was  here  that  his  am- 
bitions flourished.  Disgrace  here  was  eternal  disgrace. 


66  HAVOC 

His  father  and  his  grandfather  before  him  had  been  men 
honored  and  respected  in  this  same  circle.  Disgrace  to 
him,  such  disgrace  as  that  with  which  he  had  stood  face 
to  face  a  few  hours  ago,  would  have  been,  in  a  certain 
sense,  a  reflection  upon  their  memories.  The  names  upon 
the  brass  plates  to  right  and  to  left  of  him  were  the  names 
of  men  he  knew,  men  with  whom  he  desired  to  stand  well, 
whose  friendship  or  contempt  made  life  worth  living  or 
the  reverse.  It  was  worth  a  great  risk  —  this  effort  of 
his  to  keep  his  place.  His  one  mistake  —  this  association 
with  Morrison  —  had  been  such  an  unparalleled  stroke 
of  bad  luck.  He  was  rid  of  the  fellow  now.  For  the  future 
there  should  be  no  more  partners.  He  had  his  life  to  live. 
It  was  not  reasonable  that  he  should  allow  himself  to  be 
dragged  down  into  the  mire  by  such  a  creature. 

He  found  an  empty  taxicab  at  the  corner  of  Queen 
Victoria  Street,  and  hailed  it. 

"Whitehall  Court,"  he  told  the  driver. 


CHAPTER  X 

BELLAMY    IS    OUTWITTED 

BELLAMY  was  a  man  used  to  all  hazards,  whose  supreme 
effort  of  life  it  was  to  meet  success  and  disaster  with  unva- 
rying mien.  But  this  was  disaster  too  appalling  even  for 
his  self-control.  He  felt  his  knees  shake  so  that  he  caught 
at  the  edge  of  the  table  before  which  he  was  standing. 
There  was  no  possible  doubt  about  it,  he  had  been  tricked. 
Von  Behrling,  after  all,  —  Von  Behrling,  whom  he  had 
looked  upon  merely  as  a  stupid,  infatuated  Austrian, 
ready  to  sell  his  country  for  the  sake  of  a  woman, 
had  fooled  him  utterly ! 

The  man  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  —  the  only 
other  occupant  of  the  room  —  was  in  Court  dress,  with 
many  orders  upon  his  coat.  He  had  just  been  attending 
a  Court  function,  from  which  Bellamy's  message  had 
summoned  him.  Before  him  on  the  table  was  an  en- 
velope, hastily  torn  open,  and  several  sheets  of  blank 
paper.  It  was  upon  these  that  Bellamy's  eyes  were  fixed 
with  an  expression  of  mingled  horror  and  amazement. 
The  Cabinet  Minister  had  already  pushed  them  away 
with  a  little  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  Bellamy,"  he  said  gravely,  "  it  is  not  like  you  to  make 
so  serious  an  error." 

"I  hope  not,  sir,"  Bellamy  answered.  "I — yes,  I 
have  been  deceived." 

The  Minister  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  he  asked. 


68  HAVOC 

Bellamy,  with  an  effort,  pulled  himself  together.  He 
caught,  up  the  envelope,  looked  once  more  inside,  held 
up  the  blank  sheets  of  paper  to  the  lamp  and  laid  them 
down.  Then  with  clenched  fists  he  walked  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room  and  returned.  He  was  himself  again. 

"Sir  James,  I  will  not  waste  your  time  by  saying  that 
I  am  sorry.  Only  an  hour  ago  I  met  Von  Behrling  in  a 
little  restaurant  in  the  city,  and  gave  him  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  for  that  envelope." 

"You  paid  him  the  money,"  the  Minister  remarked 
slowly,  "  without  opening  the  envelope." 

Bellamy  admitted  it. 

"In  such  transactions  as  these,"  he  declared,  "great 
risks  are  almost  inevitable.  I  took  what  must  seem  to 
you  now  to  be  an  absurd  risk.  To  tell  you  the  honest 
truth,  sir,  and  I  have  had  experience  in  these  things,  I 
thought  it  no  risk  at  all  when  I  handed  over  the  money. 
Von  Behrling  was  there  in  disguise.  The  men  with  whom 
he  came  to  this  country  are  furious  with  him.  To  all 
appearance,  he  seemed  to  have  broken  with  them  abso- 
lutelv.  Even  now  — " 

"Well?" 

"Even  now,"  Bellamy  said  slowly,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  wall  of  the  room,  and  a  dawning  light  growing 
stronger  every  moment  in  his  face,  "even  now  I  believe 
that  Von  Behrling  made  a  mistake.  An  envelope  such 
as  this  had  been  arranged  for  him  to  show  the  others  or 
leave  at  the  Austrian  Embassy  in  case  of  emergency.  He 
had  it  with  him  in  his  pocket-book.  He  even  told  me  so. 
God  in  Heaven,  he  gave  me  the  wrong  one!" 

The  Minister  glanced  once  more  at  the  clock. 

"In  that  case,"  he  said,  "perhaps  he  would  not  go  to 
the  Embassy  to-night,  especially  if  he  was  in  disguise. 


BELLAMY    IS    OUTWITTED  69 

You    mar   still    be    able    to    find    him    and    repair    the 
error." 

"I  will  trv,"  answered  Bellamy.  "Thank  Heaven!" 
he  added,  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  satisfaction,  "my 
watchers  are  still  dogging  his  footsteps.  I  can  find  out 
before  morning  where  he  went  when  he  left  our  rendezvous. 
There  is  another  way,  too.  Mademoiselle  —  this  man 
Von  Behrling  believed  that  she  was  leaving  the  country 
with  him.  She  was  to  have  had  a  message  within  the 
next  few  hours." 

The  Minister  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  Bellamy.  I  have  been  your  friend  and  you  have  done 
>d  service  often.     The  Secret  Service  estimates,  as 
you  know,  are  above  supervision,  but  twenty  thousand 
•pounds  is  a  great  deal  of  money  to  have  paid  for  this." 

He  touched  the  sheets  of  blank  paper  with  his  fore- 
finger. Bellamy's  teeth  were  clenched. 

"  The  money  shall  be  returned,  sir." 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  Sir  James  went  on, 
speaking  a  little  more  kindly.  "The  money,  after  all,  in 
comparison  with  what  it  was  destined  to  purchase,  is 
nothing.  We  might  even  count  it  a  fair  risk  if  it  was 
lost." 

"It  shall  not  be  lost."  Bellamy  promised.  "If  Yon 
Behrling  has  played  the  traitor  to  us,  then  he  will  go  back 
to  his  country.  In  that  case.  I  will  have  the  money  from 
Lira  v.  ithout  a  doubt.  If.  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  honest 
to  us  and  a  traitor  to  his  country,  as  I  firmly  believe,  it 
may  not  yet  be  too  late." 

"Let  us  hope  not,"  Sir  James  declared.  "Bellamy," 
he  continued,  a  note  of  agitation  trembling  in  his  tone, 
"  I  need  not  tell  you,  I  am  sure,  how  important  this  matter 
is.  You  work  like  a  mole  in  the  dark,  vet  vou  have  brain>. 


70  HAVOC 

—  you  understand.  Let  me  tell  you  how  things  are  with 
us.  A  certain  amount  of  confidence  is  due  to  you,  if  to 
any  one.  I  may  tell  you  that  at  the  Cabinet  Council  to- 
day a  very  serious  tone  prevailed.  We  do  not  understand 
in  the  least  the  attitude  of  several  of  the  European  Powers. 
It  can  be  understood  only  under  certain  assumptions. 
A  note  of  ours  sent  through  the  Ambassador  to  Vienna 
has  remained  unanswered  for  two  days.  The  German 
Ambassador  has  left  unexpectedly  for  Berlin  on  urgent 
business.  We  have  just  heard,  too,  that  a  secret  mission 
from  Russia  left  St.  Petersburg  last  night  for  Paris.  Side 
by  side  with  all  this,"  Sir  James  continued,  "the  Czar  is 
trying  to  evade  his  promised  visit  here.  The  note  we 
have  received  speaks  of  his  health.  Well,  we  know  all 
about  that.  We  know,  I  may  tell  you,  that  his  health  has 
never  been  better  than  at  the  present  moment." 

"It  all  means  one  thing  and  one  thing  only,"  Bellamy 
affirmed.  "In  Vienna  and  Berlin  to-day  they  look  at  an 
Englishman  and  smile.  Even  the  man  in  the  street  seems 
to  know  what  is  coming." 

Sir  James  leaned  a  little  back  in  his  seat.  His  hands 
were  tightly  clenched,  and  there  was  a  fierce  light  in  his 
hollow  eyes.  Those  who  were  intimate  with  him  knew 
that  he  had  aged  many  years  during  the  last  few  weeks. 

"The  cruel  part  is,"  he  said  softly,  "that  it  should 
have  come  in  my  administration,  when  for  ten  years  I 
have  prayed  from  the  Opposition  benches  for  the  one  thing 
which  would  have  made  us  safe  to-day." 

"An  army,"  murmured  Bellamy. 

"The  days  are  coming,"  Sir  James  continued,  "when 
those  who  prated  of  militarism  and  the  security  of  our 
island  walls  will  see  with  their  own  eyes  the  ruin  they  have 
brought  upon  us.  Secretly  we  are  mobilizing  all  that  we 


BELLAMY    IS    OUTWITTED  71 

Lave  to  mobilize,"  he  added,  with  a  little  sigh.  "  At  the 
very  best,  however,  our  position  is  pitiful.  Even  if  we  are 
prepared  to  defend,  I  am  afraid  that  we  shall  see  things 
on  the  Continent  in  which  we  shall  be  driven  to  inter- 
fere, or  else  suffer  the  greatest  blow  which  our  prestige 
has  ever  known.  If  we  could  only  tell  what  was  coming  !" 
he  wound  up,  looking  once  more  at  those  empty  sheets  of 
paper.  "It  is  this  darkness  which  is  so  alarming !" 

Bellamy  turned  toward  the  door. 

"You  have  the  telephone  in  your  bedroom,  sir?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  ring  me  up  at  any  time  in  the  night  or  morning, 
if  you  have  news." 

Bellamy  drove  at  once  to  Dover  Street.  It  was  half-past 
one,  but  he  had  no  fear  of  not  being  admitted.  Louise's 
French  maid  answered  the  bell. 

"Madame  has  not  retired?"   Bellamy  inquired. 

"  But  no,  sir,"  the  woman  assured  him,  with  a  welcom- 
ing smile.  "It  is  only  a  few  minutes  ago  that  she  has 
returned." 

Bellamy  was  ushered  at  once  into  her  room.  She  was 
gorgeous  in  blue  satin  and  pearls.  Her  other  maid  was 
taking  off  her  jewels.  She  dismissed  both  the  women 
abruptly. 

"  I  absolutely  could  n't  avoid  a  supper-party,"  she  said, 
holding  out  her  hands.  "You  expected  that,  of  course. 
You  were  not  at  the  Opera  House?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and  walking  to  the  door  tried  the 
handle.  It  was  securely  closed.  He  came  back  slowly 
to  her  side.  Her  eyes  were  questioning  him  fiercely. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  exclaimed.     "  Well  ?  " 

"Have  you  heard  from  Von  Behrling?" 

"No,"  she  answered.     "He  knew  that  I  must  sing  to- 


72  HAVOC 

night.  I  have  been  expecting  him  to  telephone  every 
moment  since  I  got  home.  You  have  seen  him  ? " 

"I  have  seen  him,"  Bellamy  admitted.  "Either  he 
has  deceived  us  both,  or  the  most  unfortunate  mistake 
in  the  world  has  happened.  Listen.  I  met  him  where 
he  appointed.  He  was  there,  disguised,  almost  unrecog- 
nizable. He  was  nervous  and  desperate;  he  had  the  air 
of  a  man  who  has  cut  himself  adrift  from  the  world.  I 
gave  him  the  money,  —  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  Bank 
of  England  notes,  Louise,  —  and  he  gave  me  the  papers, 
or  what  we  thought  were  the  papers.  He  told  me  that 
he  was  keeping  a  false  duplicate  upon  him  for  a  little  time, 
in  case  he  was  seized,  but  that  he  was  going  to  Liverpool 
Street  station  to  wait,  and  would  telephone  you  from  the 
hotel  there  later  on.  You  have  not  heard  yet,  then?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"There  has  been  no  message,  but  go  on." 

"  He  gave  me  the  wrong  document  —  the  wrong  enve- 
lope," continued  Bellamy.  "  When  I  took  it  to  —  to 
Downing  Street,  it  was  full  of  blank  paper." 

The  color  slowly  left  her  cheeks.  She  looked  at  him 
with  horror  in  her  face. 

"Do  you  think  that  he  meant  to  do  it?"  she  exclaimed. 

"We  cannot  tell,"  Bellamy  answered.  "My  own  im- 
pression is  that  he  did  not  We  must  find  out  at  once 
what  has  become  of  him.  He  might  even,  if  he  fancies 
himself  safe,  destroy  the  envelope  he  has,  believing  it  to 
be  the  duplicate.  He  is  sure  to  telephone  you.  The  mo- 
ment you  hear  you  must  let  me  know." 

"You  had  better  stay  here,"  she  declared.  "There 
are  plenty  of  rooms.  You  will  be  on  the  spot  then." 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"The  joke  of  it  is  that  I,  too,  am  being  watched  where- 


BELLAMY    IS    OUTWITTED  73 

ever  I  go.  That  fellow  Streuss  has  spies  everywhere. 
That  is  one  reason  why  I  believe  that  Von  Behrling  was 
serious." 

"Oh,  he  was  serious!"   Louise  repeated. 

"You  are  sure?"  Bellamy  asked.  "You  have  never 
had  even  any  doubt  about  him?" 

"Never,"  she  answered  firmly.  "David,  I  had  not 
meant  to  tell  you  this.  You  know  that  I  saw  him  for  a 
moment  this  morning.  He  was  in  deadly  earnest.  He 
gave  me  a  ring  —  a  trifle  —  but  it  had  belonged  to  his 
mother.  He  would  not  have  done  this  if  he  had  been 
playing  us  false." 

Bellamy  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"You  are  right,  Louise!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  shall  go 
back  to  my  rooms  at  once.  Fortunately,  I  had  a  man 
shadowing  Von  Behrling,  and  there  may  be  a  report  for 
me.  If  anything  comes  here,  you  will  telephone  at  once?" 

"Of  course,"  she  assented. 

"You  do  not  think  it  possible,"  he  asked  slowly,  "that 
he  would  attempt  to  see  you  here?" 

Louise  shuddered  for  a  moment. 

"  I  absolutely  forbade  it,  so  I  am  sure  there  is  no  chance 
of  that." 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  decided,  "we  will  wait.  Dear," 
he  added,  in  an  altered  tone,  "how  splendid  you 
look!" 

Her  face  suddenly  softened. 

"Ah,  David!"  she  murmured,  "to  hear  you  speak 
naturally  even  for  a  moment  —  it  makes  everything  seem 
so  different !" 

He  held  out  his  arms  and  she  came  to  him  with  a  little 
sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"Louise,"  he   said,  "some   day   the   time   may  come 


74  HAVOC 

when  we  shall  be  able  to  give  up  this  life  of  anxiety  and 
terrors.  But  it  cannot  be  yet  —  not  for  your  country's 
sake  or  mine." 

She  kissed  him  fondly. 

"  So  long  as  there  is  hope !"  she  whispered. 


CHAPTER  XI 

VON  BEHRLING'S  FATE 

•j 

IT  seemed  to  Louise  that  she  had  scarcely  been  in  bed 
an  hour  when  the  more  confidential  of  her  maids  — 
Annette,  the  Frenchwoman  —  woke  her  with  a  light  touch 
of  the  arm.  She  sat  up  in  bed  sleepily. 

" What  is  it,  Annette?"  she  asked.  "Surely  it  is  not 
mid-day  yet  ?  Why  do  you  disturb  me  ?" 

"  It  is  barely  nine  o'clock,  Mademoiselle,  but  Monsieur 
Bellamy  —  Mademoiselle  told  me  that  she  wished  to 
receive  him  whenever  he  came.  He  is  in  the  boudoir  now, 
and  very  impatient." 

"Did  he  send  any  message?" 

"Only  that  his  business  was  of  the  most  urgent,"  the 
maid  replied. 

Louise  sighed,  —  she  was  really  very  sleepy.  Then,  as 
the  thoughts  began  to  crowd  into  her  brain,  she  began 
also  to  remember.  Some  part  of  the  excitement  of  a  few 
hours  ago  returned. 

"  My  bath,  Annette,  and  a  dressing-gown,"  she  ordered. 
"Tell  Monsieur  Bellamy  that  I  hurry.  I  will  be  with 
him  in  twenty  minutes." 

To  Bellamy,  the  twenty  minutes  were  minutes  of 
purgatory.  She  came  at  last,  however,  fresh  and  eager; 
her  hair  tied  up  with  ribbon,  she  herself  clad  in  a  pink 
dressing-gown  and  pink  slippers. 

"David  !"  she  cried,  —  "my  dear  David  —  !" 

Then  she  broke  off. 


76  HAVOC 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  in  a  different  tone. 

He  showed  her  the  headlines  of  the  newspaper  he  was 
carrying. 

"Tragedy!"  he  answered  hoarsely.  "Von  Behrling 
was  true,  after  all,  — at  least,  it  seems  so." 

"What  has  happened?"    she  demanded. 

Bellamy  pointed  once  more  to  the  newspaper. 

"He  was  murdered  last  night,  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
place  of  our  rendezvous." 

A  little  exclamation  broke  from  Louise's  lips.  She  sat 
down  suddenly.  The  color  called  into  her  cheeks  by  the 
exercise  of  her  bath  was  rapidly  fading  away. 

"David,"  she  murmured,  "is  this  true?" 

"It  is  indeed,"  Bellamy  assured  her.  "Not  only  that, 
but  there  is  no  mention  of  his  pocket-book  in  the  account 
of  his  murder.  It  must  have  been  engineered  by  Streuss 
and  the  others,  and  they  have  got  away  with  the  pocket- 
book  and  the  money." 

"What  can  we  do?"  she  asked. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  Bellamy  declared  calmly. 
"We  are  defeated.  The  thing  is  quite  apparent.  Von 
Behrling  never  succeeded,  after  all,  in  shaking  off  the 
espionage  of  the  men  who  were  watching  him.  They 
tracked  him  to  our  rendezvous,  they  waited  about  while 
I  met  him.  Afterwards,  he  had  to  pass  along  a  narrow 
passage.  It  was  there  that  he  was  found  murdered." 

"  But,  David,  I  don't  understand  !  Why  did  they  wait 
until  after  he  had  seen  you?  How  did  they  know  that 
he  had  not  parted  with  the  paper  in  the  restaurant  ?  To 
all  intents  and  purposes  he  ought  to  have  done  so." 

"I  cannot  understand  that  myself,"  Bellamy  admitted. 
"In  fact,  it  is  inexplicable." 

She  took  up  the  newspaper  and  glanced  at  the  report. 


VON    BEHRLING'S    FATE  77 

Then,  "You  are  sure,  I  suppose,  that  this  does  refer  to 
Von  Behrling  ?  He  is  quite  unidentified,  you  see." 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  Bellamy  declared.  "I 
have  been  to  the  Mortuary.  It  is  certainly  he.  All  our 
work  has  been  in  vain  —  just  as  I  thought,  too,  that  we 
had  made  a  splendid  success  of  it." 

She  looked  at  him  compassionately. 

"It  is  hard  lines,  dear,"  she  admitted.  "You  are  tired, 
too.  You  look  as  though  you  had  been  up  all  night." 

"Yes,  I  am  tired,"  he  answered,  sinking  into  a  chair. 
"I  am  worse  than  tired.  This  has  been  the  grossest 
failure  of  my  career,  and  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  the  end  of 
everything.  I  have  lost  twenty  thousand  pounds  of 
Secret  Service  money;  I  have  lost  the  one  chance  which 
might  have  saved  England.  They  will  never  trust  me 
again." 

"You  did  your  best,"  she  said,  coming  over  and 
sitting  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  "You  did  your  best, 
David." 

She  laid  her  hands  upon  his  forehead,  her  cheek  against 
his  —  smooth  and  cold  —  exquisitely  refreshing  it  seemed 
to  his  jaded  nerves. 

"Ah,  Louise!"  he  murmured,  "life  is  getting  a  little 
too  strenuous.  Perhaps  we  have  given  too  much  of  it  up 
to  others.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Dear,  I  have  felt  like  that  sometimes,  yet  what  can  we 
do  ?  Could  we  be  happy,  you  and  I,  in  exile,  if  the  things 
which  we  dread  were  coming  to  pass?  Could  I  go  away 
and  hide  while  my  countrymen  were  being  butchered 
out  of  existence  ?  —  And  you  —  you  are  not  the  sort  of 
man  to  be  content  with  an  ignoble  peace.  No,  it  is  n't 
possible.  Our  work  may  not  be  over  yet  — 


78  HAVOC 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Annette  entered 
with  many  apologies. 

"Mademoiselle,"  she  explained,  "a  thousand  pardons, 
and  to  Monsieur  also,  but  there  is  a  gentleman  here  who 
says  that  his  business  is  of  the  most  urgent  importance, 
and  that  he  must  see  you  at  once.  I  have  done  all  that  I 
can,  but  he  will  not  go  away.  He  knows  that  Monsieur 
Bellamy  is  here,  too,"  she  added,  turning  to  him,  "  and 
he  says  his  business  has  to  do  with  Monsieur  as  well  as 
Mademoiselle." 

Bellamy  almost  snatched  the  card  from  the  girl's 
fingers.  He  read  out  the  name  in  blank  amazement. 

"Baron  de  Streuss!" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Louise  and  he  exchanged 
wondering  glances. 

"What  can  this  mean?"   she  asked  hoarsely. 

"Heaven  knows!"  he  answered.  "Let  us  see  him 
together.  After  all  —  after  all  - 

"You  can  show  the  gentleman  in,  Annette,"  her  mis- 
tress ordered. 

"If  he  has  the  papers,"  Bellamy  continued  slowly, 
"  why  does  he  come  to  us  ?  It  is  not  like  these  men  to  be 
vindictive.  Diplomacy  to  them  is  nothing  —  a  game  of 
chess.  I  do  not  understand." 

The  door  opened.  Annette  announced  their  visitor. 
Streuss  bowed  low  to  Louise  —  he  bowed,  also,  to 
Bellamy. 

"I  need  not  introduce  myself,"  he  said.  "With  Mr. 
Bellamy  I  have  the  honor  to  be  well  acquainted.  Madame 
is  known  to  all  the  world." 

Louise  nodded,  somewhat  coldly. 

"We  can  dispense  with  an  introduction,  I  think,  Mon- 
sieur le  Baron,"  she  said.  "At  the  same  time,  you  will 


VON    BEHRLING'S    FATE  79 

perhaps  explain  to  what  I  owe  this  somewhat  unexpected 
pleasure?" 

"Mademoiselle,  an  explanation  there  must  certainly 
be.  I  know  that  it  is  an  impossible  hour.  I  know,  too, 
that  to  have  forced  my  presence  upon  you  in  this  manner 
may  seem  discourteous.  Yet  the  urgency  of  the  matter, 
I  am  convinced,  justifies  me." 

Louise  motioned  him  to  a  chair,  but  he  declined  with 
a  little  bow  of  thanks. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "and  you,  Mr.  Bellamy, 
we  need  not  waste  words.  We  have  played  a  game  of 
chess  together.  You,  Mademoiselle,  and  Mr.  Bellamy  on 
the  one  side  —  I  and  my  friends  upon  the  other.  The 
honor  of  Rudolph  Von  Behrling  was  the  pawn  for  which 
we  fought.  The  victory  remains  with  you." 

Bellamy  never  moved  a  muscle.  Louise,  on  the  con- 
trary, could  not  help  a  slight  start. 

"Under  the  circumstances,"  the  Baron  continued 
smoothly,  "the  struggle  was  uneven.  I  do  myself  the 
justice  to  remember  that  from  the  first  I  realized  that 
we  played  a  losing  game.  Mademoiselle,"  he  added, 
"  from  the  days  of  Cleopatra  —  ay,  and  throughout  those 
shadowy  days  which  lie  beyond  —  the  diplomats  of  the 
world  have  been  powerless  when  matched  against  your 
sex.  Rudolph  Von  Behrling  was  an  honest  fellow  enough 
until  he  looked  into  your  eyes.  Mademoiselle,  you  have 
gifts  which  might,  perhaps,  have  driven  from  his  senses 
a  stronger  man." 

Louise  smiled,  but  there  was  no  suggestion  of  mirth 
in  the  curl  of  her  lips.  Her  eyes  all  the  time  sought  his 
questioningly.  She  did  not  understand. 

"You  flatter  me,  Baron,"  she  murmured. 

"No,  I  do  not  flatter  you,  I  speak  the  truth.     This 


8o  HAVOC 

plain  talking  is  pleasant  enough  when  the  time  comes 
that  one  may  indulge  in  it.  That  time,  I  think,  is  now. 
Rudolph  Von  Behrling,  against  my  advice,  but  because 
he  was  the  Chancellor's  nephew,  was  associated  with  me 
in  a  certain  enterprise,  the  nature  of  which  is  no  secret 
to  you,  Mademoiselle,  or  to  Mr.  Bellamy  here.  We  fol- 
lowed a  man  who,  by  some  strange  chance,  was  in  pos- 
session of  a  few  sheets  of  foolscap,  the  contents  of  which 
were  alike  priceless  to  my  country  and  priceless  to  yours. 
The  subsequent  history  of  those  papers  should  have 
been  automatic.  The  first  step  was  fulfilled  readily 
enough.  The  man  disappeared  —  the  papers  were  ours. 
Von  Behrling  was  the  man  who  secured  them,  and  Von 
Behrling  it  was  who  retained  them.  If  my  advice  had 
been  followed,  I  admit  frankly  that  we  should  have 
ignored  all  possible  comment  and  returned  with  them 
at  once  to  Vienna.  The  others  thought  differently.  They 
ruled  that  we  should  come  on  to  London  and  deposit  the 
packet  with  our  Ambassador  here.  In  a  weak  moment 
I  consented.  It  was  your  opportunity,  Mademoiselle,  — 
an  opportunity  of  which  you  have  splendidly  availed 
yourself." 

This  time  Louise  held  herself  with  composure.  Bel- 
lamy's brain  was  in  a  whirl  but  he  remained  silent. 

"I  come  to  you  both,"  the  Baron  continued,  "with  my 
hands  open.  I  come  —  I  make  no  secret  of  it  —  I  come 
to  make  terms.  But  first  of  all  I  must  know  whether  I 
am  in  time.  There  is  one  question  which  I  must  ask.  I 
address  it,  sir,  to  you,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bellamy. 
"Have  you  yet  placed  in  the  hands  of  your  Government 
the  papers  which  you  obtained  from  Von  Behrling?" 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

The  Baron  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.     Though  he 


VON    BEHRLING'S    FATE  81 

had  maintained  his  savoir  faire  perfectly,  the  fingers 
which  for  a  moment  played  with  his  tie,  as  though  to 
rearrange  it,  were  trembling. 

"Well,  then,  I  am  in  time.     Will  you  see  my  hand?" 

"Mademoiselle  and  I,"  answered  Bellamy,  "are  at 
least  ready  to  listen  to  anything  you  may  have  to  say." 

"You  know  quite  well,"  the  Baron  continued,  "what 
it  is  that  I  have  come  to  say,  yet  I  want  you  to  remember 
this.  I  do  not  come  to  bribe  you  in  any  ordinary  manner. 
The  things  which  are  to  come  will  happen;  they  must 
happen,  if  not  this  year,  next,  —  if  not  next  year,  within 
half  a  decade  of  years.  History  is  an  absolute  science. 
The  future  as  well  as  the  past  can  be  read  by  those  who 
know  the  signs.  The  thing  which  has  been  resolved 
upon  is  certain.  The  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  those 
papers  by  your  Government  might  delay  the  final  catas- 
trophe for  a  short  while;  it  could  do  no  more.  In  the 
long  run,  it  would  be  better  for  your  country,  Mr.  Bel- 
lamy, in  every  way,  that  the  end  come  soon.  Therefore, 
I  ask  you  to  perform  no  traitorous  deed.  I  ask  you  to  do 
that  which  is  simply  reasonable  for  all  of  us,  which  is, 
indeed,  for  the  advantage  of  all  of  us.  Restore  thosV 
papers  to  me  instead  of  handing  them  to  your  Govern- 
ment, and  I  will  pay  you  for  them  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds!" 

"One  hundred  thousand  pounds  !"   Bellamy  repeated. 

"One  hundred  thousand  pounds  !"   murmured  Louise. 

There  was  a  brief,  intense  pause.  Louise  waited, 
warned  by  the  expression  in  Bellamy's  face.  Silence,  she 
felt,  was  safest,  and  it  was  Bellamy  who  spoke. 

"Baron,"  said  he,  "your  visit  and  your  proposal  are 
both  a  little  amazing.  Forgive  me  if  I  speak  alone  with 
Mademoiselle  for  a  moment." 


82  HAVOC 

"Most  certainly,"  the  Baron  agreed.  "I  go  away  and 
leave  you  — out  of  the  room,  if  you  will." 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  Bellamy  replied.     "Louise  !" 

The  Baron  withdrew  to  the  window,  and  Bellamy  led 
Louise  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the  room. 

"What  can  it  mean?"  he  whispered.  "What  do  you 
suppose  has  happened?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine.    My  brain  is  in  a  whirl." 

"If  they  have  not  got  the  pocket-book,"  Bellamy  mut- 
tered, "  it  must  have  gone  with  Von  Behrling  to  the  Mor- 
tuary. If  so,  chere  is  a  chance.  Louise,  say  nothing; 
leave  this  to  me." 

"As  you  will,"  she  assented.  "I  have  no  wish  to 
interfere.  I  only  hope  that  he  does  not  ask  me  any 
questions." 

They  came  once  more  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
the  Baron  turned  to  meet  them. 

"You  must  forgive  Mademoiselle,"  said  Bellamy,  "if 
she  is  a  little  upset  this  morning.  She  knows,  of  course, 
as  I  know  and  you  know,  that  Von  Behrling  was  playing 
a  desperate  game,  and  that  he  carried  his  life  in  his  hands. 
Yet  his  death  has  been  a  shock  —  has  been  a  shock,  I 
may  say,  to  both  of  us.  From  your  point  of  view,"  Bel- 
lamy went  on,  "  it  was  doubtless  deserved,  but  — 

"  What,  in  God's  name,  is  this  that  you  say  ?"  the  Baron 
interrupted.  "  I  do  not  understand  at  all !  You  speak  of 
Von  Behrling's  death!  What  do  you  mean?" 

Bellamy  looked  at  him  as  one  who  listens  to  strange 
words. 

"Baron,"  he  said,  "between  us  who  know  so  much 
there  is  surely  no  need  for  you  to  play  a  part.  Von  Behr- 
ling knew  that  you  were  watching  him.  Your  spies  were 
shadowing  him  as  they  have  done  me.  He  knew  that  he 


VON    BEHRLING'S    FATE  83 

was  running  terrible  risks.  He  was  not  unprepared  and 
he  has  paid.  It  is  not  for  us  - 

"Now,  in  God's  name,  tell  me  the  truth!"  Baron  de 
Streuss  interrupted  once  more.  "What  is  it  that  you  are 
saying  about  Von  Behrling's  death?" 

Bellamy  drew  a  little  breath  between  his  teeth.  He 
leaned  forward  with  his  hands  resting  upon  the  table. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  do  not  know  ?  " 

"Upon  my  soul,  no!"  replied  the  Baron. 

Bellamy  threw  open  the  newspaper  before  him. 

"Von  Behrling  was  murdered  last  night,  ten  minutes 
after  our  interview." 


CHAPTER  XH 

BARON  DE  STREUSS*  PROPOSAL 

THE  Baron  adjusted  his  eyeglass  with  shaking  fingers. 
His  face  now  was  waxen-white  as  he  spread  out  the  news- 
paper upon  the  table  and  read  the  paragraph  word  by 
word. 

TERRIBLE  CRIME  IN  THE  CITY 

Early  this  morning  the  body  of  a  man  was  dis- 
covered in  a  narrow  passageway  leading  from 
Crooked  Friars  to  Royal  Street,  under  circum- 
stances which  leave  little  doubt  but  that  the  man's 
death  was  owing  to  foul  play.  The  deceased  had 
apparently  been  stabbed,  and  had  received  several 
severe  blows  about  the  head.  He  was  shabbily 
dressed  but  was  well  supplied  with  money,  and  he 
was  wearing  a  gold  watch  and  chain  when  he  was 
found. 

LATER 

There  appears  to  be  no  further,  doubt  but  that 
the  man  found  in  the  entry  leading  from  Crooked 
Friars  had  been  the  victim  of  a  particularly  mur- 
derous assault.  Neither  his  clothes  nor  his  linen 
bore  any  mark  by  means  of  which  he  could  be 
identified.  The  body  has  been  removed  to  the 
nearest  mortuary,  and  an  inquest  will  shortly  be 
held. 


BARON  DE  STREUSS'  PROPOSAL   85 

Streuss  looked  up  from  the  newspaper  and  the  reality 
of  his  surprise  was  apparent.  He  had  all  the  appearance 
of  a  man  shaken  with  emotion.  While  he  looked  at  his 
two  companions  wonderingly,  strange  thoughts  were 
forming  in  his  mind. 

"Von  Behrling  dead!"    he  muttered.     "But  who  - 
who  could  have  done  this?" 

"Until  this  moment,"  Bellamy  answered  dryly,  "it  was 
not  a  matter  concerning  which  we  had  any  doubt.  The 
only  wonder  to  us  was  that  it  should  have  been  done  too 
late." 

"You  mean,"  Streuss  said  slowly,  "that  he  was  mur- 
dered after  he  had  completed  his  bargain  with  you?" 

"Naturally." 

"I  suppose,"  the  Baron  continued,  "there  is  no  ques- 
tion but  that  it  was  done  afterwards?  You  smile,"  he 
exclaimed,  "but  what  am  I  to  think?  Neither  I  nor  my 
people  had  any  hand  in  this  deed.  How  about  yours?" 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"  We  do  not  fight  that  way,"  he  replied.  "  I  had  bought 
Von  Behrling.  He  was  of  no  further  interest  to  me.  I 
did  not  care  whether  he  lived  or  died." 

"There  is  something  very  strange  about  this,"  the 
Baron  said.  "If  neither  you  nor  I  were  responsible  for 
his  death,  who  was?" 

"That  I  can't  tell  you.  Perhaps  later  in  the  day  we 
shall  hear  from  the  police.  It  is  scarcely  the  sort  of  mur- 
der which  would  remain  long  undetected,  especially  as 
he  was  robbed  of  a  large  sum  in  bank-notes." 

"Supplied  by  His  Majesty's  Government,  I  presume?" 
Streuss  remarked. 

"Precisely,"  Bellamy  assented,  "and  paid  to  him 
by  me." 


86  HAVOC 

"At  any  rate,"  Streuss  said  grimly,  "we  have  now  no 
more  secrets  from  one  another.  I  will  ask  you  one  last 
question.  Where  is  that  packet  at  the  present  moment  ?" 

Bellamy  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"It  is  a  question,"  he  declared,  "which  you  could 
scarcely  expect  me  to  answer." 

"I  will  put  it  another  way,"  Streuss  continued.  "Sup- 
posing you  decide  to  accept  my  offer,  how  long  will  it  be 
before  the  packet  can  be  placed  in  my  hands?" 

"If  we  decide  to  accept,"  Bellamy  answered,  "there  is 
no  reason  why  there  should  be  any  delay  at  all." 

•Streuss  was  silent  for  several  moments.  His  hands 
were  thrust  deep  down  into  the  pockets  of  his  overcoat. 
With  eyes  fixed  upon  the  tablecloth,  he  seemed  to  be 
thinking  deeply,  till  presently  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  steadily  at  Bellamy. 

"  You  are  sure  that  Von  Behrling  has  not  fooled  you  ? 
You  are  sure  that  you  have  that  identical  packet  ?" 

"I  am  absolutely  certain  that  I  have,"  Bellamy  an- 
swered, without  flinching. 

"  Then  accept  my  price  and  have  done  with  this  matter," 
Streuss  begged.  "I  will  sign  a  draft  for  you  here,  and  I 
will  undertake  to  bring  you  the  money,  or  honor  it  wherever 
you  say,  within  twenty-four  hours." 

"  I  cannot  decide  so  quickly,"  said  Bellamy,  shaking 
his  head.  "  Mademoiselle  Idiale  and  I  must  talk  together 
first.  I  am  not  sure,"  he  added,  "whether  I  might  not 
find  a  higher  bidder." 

Streuss  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"There  is  little  fear  of  that,"  he  said.  "The  papers 
are  of  no  use  except  to  us  and  to  England.  To  England, 
I  will  admit  that  the  foreknowledge  of  what  is  to  come 
would  be  worth  much,  although  the  eventful  result  would 


BARON  DE  STREUSS'  PROPOSAL   87 

be  the  same.  It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  am  here,  for  that 
reason  that  I  have  made  you  this  offer." 

''Mademoiselle  and  I  must  discuss  it,"  Bellamy  de- 
clared. "  It  is  not  a  matter  to  be  decided  upon  off-hand. 
Remember  that  it  is  not  only  the  packet  which  you  are 
offering  to  buy,  but  also  my  career  and  my  honor." 

"One  hundred  thousand  pounds,"  Streuss  said  slowly. 
"  From  your  own  side  you  get  nothing  —  nothing  but 
your  beggarly  salary  and  an  occasional  reprimand.  One 
hundred  thousand  pounds  is  not  immense  wealth,  but  it 
is  something." 

"Your  offer  is  a  generous  one,"  admitted  Bellamy, 
"there  is  no  doubt  about  that.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
cannot  decide  without  further  consideration.  It  is  a  big 
thing  for  us,  remember.  I  have  worked  very  hard  for  the 
contents  of  that  packet." 

Once  more  Streuss  felt  an  uneasy  pang  of  incredulity. 
After  all,  was  this  Englishman  playing  with  him?  So  he 
asked:  "You  are  quite  sure  that  you  have  it?" 

"There  is  no  means  of  convincing  you  of  which  I  care 
to  make  use.  You  must  be  content  with  my  word.  I  have 
the  packet.  I  paid  Von  Behrling  for  it  and  he  gave  it  to 
me  with  his  own  hands." 

"I  must  accept  your  word,"  Streuss  declared.  "I  give 
you  three  days  for  reflection.  Before  I  go,  Mr.  Bellamy, 
forgive  me  if  I  refer  once  more  to  this,"  —  touching  the 
newspaper  which  still  lay  upon  the  table.  "Remember 
that  Rudolph  Von  Behrling  moved  about  a  marked  man. 
Your  spies  and  mine  were  most  of  the  time  upon  his  heels. 
Yet  in  the  end  some  third  person  seems  to  have  inter- 
vened. Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  know  nothing  of 
this?" 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  Bellamy  replied,  "  I  have  not  the 


88  HAVOC 

slightest  information  concerning  Von  Behrling's  death 
beyond  what  you  can  read  there.  It  was  as  great  a  sur- 
prise to  me  as  to  you." 

"It  is  incomprehensible,"  Streuss  murmured. 

"One  can  only  conclude,"  Bellamy  remarked  thought- 
fully, "  that  someone  must  have  seen  him  with  those  notes. 
There  were  people  moving  about  in  the  little  restaurant 
where  we  met.  The  rustle  of  bank-notes  has  cost  more 
than  one  man  his  life." 

"For  the  present,"  Streuss  said,  "we  must  believe  that 
it  was  so.  Listen  to  me,  both  of  you.  You  will  be  wiser 
if  you  do  not  delay.  You  are  young  people,  and  the  world 
is  before  you.  With  money  one  can  do  everything.  With- 
out it,  life  is  but  a  slavery.  The  world  is  full  of  beautiful 
dwelling-places  for  those  who  have  the  means  to  choose. 
Remember,  too,  that  not  a  soul  will  ever  know  of  this 
transaction,  if  you  should  decide  to  accept  my  offer." 

"  We  shall  remember  all  those  things,"  Bellamy  assured 
him. 

Streuss  took  up  his  hat  and  gloves. 

"With  your  permission,  then,  Mademoiselle,"  he  con- 
cluded, turning  to  Louise,  "I  go.  I  must  try  and  under- 
stand for  myself  the  meaning  of  this  thing  which  has 
happened  to  Von  Behrling." 

"Do  not  forget,"  Bellamy  said,  "that  if  you  discover 
anything,  we  are  equally  interested."  .  .  . 

They  heard  him  go  out.  Bellamy  purposely  held  the 
door  open  until  he  saw  the  lift  descend.  Then  he  closed 
it  firmly  and  came  back  into  the  room.  Louise  and  he 
looked  at  each  other,  their  faces  full  of  anxious  questioning. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  Louise  cried.  "What  can  it 
mean?" 

"  Heaven  alone  knows ! "  Bellamy  answered.    "  There  is 


BARON  DE  STREUSS'  PROPOSAL   89 

not  a  gleam  of  daylight.  My  people  are  absolutely  inno- 
cent of  any  attempt  upon  Von  Behrling.  If  Streuss  tells 
the  truth,  and  I  believe  he  does,  his  people  are  in  the  same 
position.  Who,  then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  miraculous, 
can  have  murdered  and  robbed  Von  Behrling?" 

"In  London,  too,"  Louise  murmured.  "It  is  not 
Vienna,  this,  or  Belgrade." 

"You  are  right,"  Bellamy  agreed.  "London  is  one 
of  the  most  law-abiding  cities  in  Europe.  Besides,  the 
quarter  where  the  murder  occurred  is  entirely  unfre- 
quented by  the  criminal  classes.  It  is  simply  a  region  of 
great  banks  and  the  offices  of  merchant  princes." 

"Is  it  possible  that  there  is  some  one  else  who  knew 
about  that  document?"  Louise  asked, — "some  one 
else  who  has  been  watching  Von  Behrling?" 

Bellamy  shook  his  head. 

"How  can  that  be?  Besides,  if  any  one  else  were 
really  on  his  track,  they  must  have  believed  that  he  had 
parted  with  it  to  me.  I  shall  go  back  now  to  Downing 
Street  to  ask  for  a  letter  to  the  Chief  of  Scotland  Yard. 
If  anything  comes  out,  I  must  have  plenty  of  warning." 

"And  I,"  she  said,  with  an  approving  nod,  "shall  go 
back  to  bed  again.  These  days  are  too  strenuous  for  me. 
Won't  you  stay  and  take  your  coffee  with  me?" 

Bellamy  held  her  hand  for  a  moment  in  his. 

"Dear,"  he  said,  "I  would  stay,  but  you  understand, 
don't  you,  what  a  maze  this  is  into  which  we  have  wan- 
dered. Von  Behrling  has  been  murdered  by  some  person 
who  seems  to  have  dropped  from  the  skies.  WThoever 
they  may  be,  they  have  in  their  possession  my  twenty 
thousand  pounds  and  the  packet  which  should  have  been 
mine.  I  must  trace  them  if  I  can,  Louise.  It  is  a  poor 
chance,  but  I  must  do  my  best.  I  myself  am  of  the  opinion 


go  HAVOC 

that  Von  Behrling  was  murdered  for  the  money,  and  for 
the  money  only.  If  so,  that  packet  may  be  in  the  hands  of 
people  who  have  no  idea  what  use  to  make  of  it.  They 
may  even  destroy  it.  If  Streuss  returns  and  you  are  forced 
to  see  him,  be  careful.  Remember,  we  have  the  document 
—  we  are  hesitating.  So  long  as  he  believes  that  it  is  in 
our  possession,  he  will  not  look  elsewhere." 

"I  will  be  careful,"  Louise  promised,  with  her  arms 
around  his  neck.  "And,  dear,  take  care.  When  I  think 
of  poor  Rudolph  Von  Behrling,  I  tremble,  also,  for  you. 
It  seems  to  me  that  your  danger  is  no  less  than  his." 

"I  do  not  go  about  with  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  my 
pocket-book,"  with  a  smile. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  but  Streuss  believes  that  you  have  the  document 
which  he  is  pledged  to  recover.  Be  careful  that  they  do 
not  lead  you  into  a  trap.  They  are  not  above  anything, 
these  men.  I  heard  once  of  a  Bulgarian  in  Vienna  who 
was  tortured  —  tortured  almost  to  death  —  before  he 
spoke.  Then  they  thrust  him  into  a  lunatic  asylum. 
Remember,  dear,  they  have  no  consciences  and  no  pity." 

"We  are  in  London,"  he  reminded  her. 

"  So    was   Von    Behrling,"    she    answered   quickly,  — 
"not  only  in  London  but  in  a  safe  part  of  London.    Yet 
he  is  dead." 

"It  was  not  their  doing,"  he  declared.  "In  their  own 
country,  they  have  the  whole  machinery  of  their  wonder- 
ful police  system  at  their  backs,  and  no  fear  of  the  law 
in  their  hearts.  Here  they  must  needs  go  cautiously.  I 
don't  think  you  need  be  afraid,"  he  added,  smiling,  as 
he  opened  the  door.  "I  think  I  can  promise  you  that  if 
you  will  do  me  the  honor  we  will  sup  together  to-night." 

"You  must  fetch  me  from  the  Opera  House,"  Louise 


I 


BARON  DE  STREUSS'  PROPOSAL   91 

insisted.  "  It  is  a  bargain.  I  have  suffered  enough  neglect 
at  your  hands.  One  thing,  David,  —  where  do  you  go 
first  from  here?" 

"To  find  the  man,"  Bellamy  answered  gravely,  "who 
was  watching  Von  Behrling  when  he  left  me.  If  any  man 
in  England  knows  anything  of  the  murder,  it  must  be  he. 
He  should  be  at  my  rooms  by  now." 


CHAPTER 

STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE 

STEPHEN  LAVERICK  was  a  bachelor  —  his  friends  called 
him  an  incorrigible  one.  He  had  a  small  but  pleasantly 
situated  suite  of  rooms  in  Whitehall  Court,  looking  out 
upon  the  river.  His  habits  were  almost  monotonous  in 
their  regularity,  and  the  morning  following  his  late  night 
in  the  city  was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  At  eight 
o'clock,  the  valet  attached  to  the  suite  knocked  at  his 
door  and  informed  him  that  his  bath  was  ready.  He 
awoke  at  once  from  a  sound  sleep,  sat  up  in  bed,  and 
remembered  the  events  of  the  preceding  evening. 

At  first  he  was  inclined  to  doubt  that  slowly  stirring 
effort  of  memory.  He  was  a  man  of  unromantic  tempera- 
ment, unimaginative,  and  by  no  means  of  an  adventurous 
turn  of  mind.  He  sought  naturally  for  the  most  reason- 
able explanation  of  this  strange  picture,  which  no  effort 
of  his  will  could  dismiss  from  his  memory.  It  was  a  dream, 
of  course.  But  the  dream  did  not  fade.  Slowly  it  spread 
itself  out  so  that  he  could  no  longer  doubt.  He  knew 
very  well  as  he  sat  there  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  that  the 
thing  was  truth.  He,  Stephen  Laverick,  a  man  hitherto 
of  upright  character,  with  a  reputation  of  which  un- 
consciously he  was  proud,  had  robbed  a  dead  man,  had 
looked  into  the  burning  eyes  of  his  murderer,  had  stolen 
away  with  twenty  thousand  pounds  of  someone  else's 
money.  Morally,  at  any  rate,  —  probably  legally  as  well, 
—  he  was  a  thief.  A  glimpse  inside  his  safe  on  the  part 


STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE    93 

of  an  astute  detective  might  very  easily  bring  him  under 
the  grave  suspicion  of  being  a  criminal  of  altogether 
deeper  dye. 

Stephen  Laverick  was,  in  his  way,  something  of  a  phi- 
losopher. In  the  cold  daylight,  with  the  sound  of  the  water 
running  into  his  bath,  this  deed  which  he  had  done  seemed 
to  him  foolish  and  reprehensible.  Nevertheless,  he  realized 
the  absolute  finality  of  his  action.  The  thing  was  done; 
he  must  make  the  best  of  it.  Behaving  in  every  way  like 
a  sensible  man,  he  did  not  send  for  the  newspapers  and 
search  hysterically  for  their  account  of  last  night's  tragedy, 
but  took  his  bath  as  usual,  dressed  with  more  than  ordinary 
care,  and  sat  down  to  his  breakfast  before  he  even  un- 
folded the  paper.  The  item  for  which  he  searched  oc- 
cupied by  no  means  so  prominent  a  position  as  he  had 
expected.  It  appeared  under  one  of  the  leading  head- 
lines, but  it  consisted  of  only  a  few  words.  He  read  them 
with  interest  but  without  emotion.  Afterwards  he  turned 
to  the  Stock  Exchange  quotations  and  made  notes  of  a 
few  prices  in  which  he  was  interested. 

He  completed  in  leisurely  fashion  an  excellent  break- 
fast and  followed  his  usual  custom  of  walking  along  the 
Embankment  as  far  as  the  Royal  Hotel,  where  he  called 
a  taxicab  and  drove  to  his  offices.  A  little  crowd  had 
gathered  around  the  end  of  the  passage  which  led  from 
Crooked  Friars,  and  Laverick  himself  leaned  forward 
and  looked  curiously  at  the  spot  where  the  body  of  the 
murdered  man  had  lain.  It  seemed  hard  to  him  to  recon- 
struct last  night's  scene  in  his  mind  now  that  the  narrow 
street  was  filled  with  hurrying  men  and  a  stream  of  vehicles 
blocked  every  inch  of  the  roadway.  In  his  early  morning 
mood  the  thing  was  impossible.  In  a  moment  or  two  he 
paid  his  driver  and  dismissed  him. 


94  HAVOC 

He  fancied  that  a  certain  relief  was  visible  among  his 
clerks  when  he  opened  the  door  at  precisely  his  usual 
time  and  with  a  cheerful  "Good-morning!"  made  his 
way  into  the  private  office.  He  lit  his  customary  cigarette 
and  dealt  rapidly  with  the  correspondence  which  was 
brought  in  to  him  by  his  head-clerk.  Afterwards,  as  soon 
as  he  was  alone,  he  opened  the  safe,  thrust  the  contents 
of  that  inner  drawer  into  his  breast-pocket,  and  took  up 
once  more  his  hat  and  gloves. 

"I  am  going  around  to  the  bank,"  he  told  his  clerk  as 
he  passed  out.  "  I  shall  be  back  in  half-an-hour  —  per- 
haps less." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "Will  Mr. 
Morrison  be  here  this  morning?" 

Laverick  hesitated. 

"No,  Mr.  Morrison  will  not  be  here  to-day." 

It  was  only  a  few  steps  to  his  bankers,  and  his  request 
for  an  interview  with  the  manager  was  immediately 
granted.  The  latter  received  him  kindly  but  with  a  certain 
restraint.  There  are  not  many  secrets  in  the  city,  and 
Morrison's  big  plunge  on  a  particular  mining  share,  not- 
withstanding its  steady  drop,  had  been  freely  commented 
upon. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Laverick?"  the  banker 
asked. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  answered  Laverick.  "  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  am  in  a  somewhat  singular  position." 

The  banker  nodded.  He  had  not  a  doubt  but  that  he 
understood  exactly  what  that  position  was. 

"You  have  perhaps  heard,"  Laverick  continued  slowly, 
"that  my  late  partner,  Mr.  Morrison,  — 

"Late  partner?"  the  manager  interrupted. 

Laverick  assented. 


STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE    95 

"We  had  a  few  words  last  night,"  he  explained,  "and 
Mr.  Morrison  left  the  office  with  an  understanding  between 
us  that  he  should  not  return.  You  will  receive  a  formal 
intimation  of  that  during  the  course  of  the  next  day  or 
so.  We  will  revert  to  the  matter  presently,  if  you  wish. 
My  immediate  business  writh  you  is  to  discuss  the  fact  that 
I  have  to  provide  something  like  twenty  thousand  pounds 
to-day  if  I  decide  to  take  up  the  purchases  of  stock  which 
Morrison  has  made." 

"You  understand  the  position,  of  course,  Mr.  Laverick,, 
if  you  fail  to  do  so  ?"  the  manager  remarked  gravely. 

"Naturally,"  Laverick  answered.  "I  am  quite  aware 
of  the  fact  that  Morrison  acted  on  behalf  of  the  firm  and 
that  I  am  responsible  for  his  transactions.  He  has  plunged 
pretty  deeply,  though,  a  great  deal  more  deeply  than  our 
capital  warranted.  I  may  add  that  I  had  not  the  slightest 
idea  as  to  the  extent  of  his  dealings." 

The  bank  manager  adopted  a  sympathetic  but  serious 
attitude. 

"Twenty  thousand  pounds,"  he  declared,  "is  a  great 
deal  of  money,  Mr.  Laverick." 

"It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,"  Laverick  admitted.  "I 
am  here  to  ask  you  to  lend  it  to  me." 

The  bank  manager  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Laverick!"   he  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

"Upon  unimpeachable  security,"  Laverick  continued. 

The  bank  manager  wras  conscious  that  he  had  allowed 
a  little  start  of  surprise  to  escape  him,  and  bit  his  lip 
with  annoyance.  It  was  entirely  contrary  to  his  tenets 
to  display  at  any  time  during  office  hours  any  sort  of 
emotion. 

"Unimpeachable  security,"  he  repeated.  "Of  course, 
if  you  have  that  to  offer,  Mr.  Laverick,  although  the  sum 


96  HAVOC 

is  a  large  one,  it  is  our  business  to  see  what  we  can  do  for 
you." 

"  My  security  is  of  the  best,"  Laverick  declared  grimly. 
"I  have  bank-notes  here,  Mr.  Fenwick,  for  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds." 

The  bank  manager  was  again  guilty  of  an  unprofessional 
action.  He  whistled  softly  under  his  breath.  A  very 
respectable  client  he  had  always  considered  Mr.  Stephen 
Laverick,  but  he  had  certainly  never  suspected  him  of 
being  able  to  produce  at  a  pinch  such  evidence  of  means. 
Laverick  smoothed  out  the  notes  and  laid  them  upon  the 
table. 

"  Mr.  Fenwick,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  I  am  right  in  assum- 
ing that  when  one  comes  to  one's  bankers,  one  enters,  as 
it  were,  into  a  confessional.  I  feel  convinced  that  nothing 
which  I  say  to  you  will  be  repeated  outside  this  office,  or 
will  be  allowed  to  dwell  in  your  own  mind  except  with 
reference  to  this  particular  transaction  between  you  and 
me.  I  have  the  right,  have  I  not,  to  take  that  for  granted  ?  " 

"Most  certainly,"  the  banker  agreed. 

"From  a  strictly  ethical  point  of  view,"  Laverick 
went  on,  "  this  money  is  not  mine.  I  hold  it  in  trust  for  its 
owner,  but  I  hold  it  without  any  conditions.  I  have  power 
to  make  what  use  I  wish  of  it,  and  I  choose  to-day  to  use 
it  on  my  own  behalf.  Whether  I  am  justified  or  not  is 
scarcely  a  matter,  I  presume,  which  concerns  this  excellent 
banking  establishment  over  which  you  preside  so  ably. 
I  do  not  pay  these  bank-notes  in  to  my  account  and  ask 
you  to  credit  me  with  twenty  thousand  pounds.  I  ask 
you  to  allow  me  to  deposit  them  here  for  seven  days  as 
security  against  an  overdraft.  You  can  then  advance  me 
enough  money  to  meet  my  engagements  of  to-day." 

The  banker  took  up  the  notes  and  looked  them  through, 


STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE     97 

one  by  one.    They  were  very  crisp,  very  new,  and  abso- 
lutely genuine. 

"This  is  somewhat  an  extraordinary  proceeding,  Mr. 
Laverick,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  must  seem  so  to  you,"  Laverick 
admitted.  "At  the  same  time,  there  the  money  is.  You 
can  run  no  risk.  If  I  am  exceeding  my  moral  right  in 
making  use  of  these  notes,  it  is  I  who  will  have  to  pay 
Will  you  do  as  I  ask?" 

The  banker  hesitated.  The  transaction  was  somewhat 
a  peculiar  one,  but  on  the  face  of  it  there  could  be  no  pos- 
sible risk.  At  the  same  time,  there  was  something  about 
it  which  he  could  not  understand. 

"Your  wish,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  remarked,  looking  at 
him  thoughtfully,  "seems  to  be  to  keep  these  notes  out 
of  circulation." 

Laverick  returned  his  gaze  without  flinching. 

"  In  a  sense,  that  is  so,"  he  assented. 

"  On  the  whole,"  the  banker  declared,  "  I  should  prefer 
to  credit  them  to  your  account  in  the  usual  way." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Laverick  answered,  "but  I  have  a  senti- 
mental feeling  about  it.  I  prefer  to  keep  the  notes  intact. 
If  you  cannot  follow  out  my  suggestion,  I  must  remove 
my  account  at  once.  This  is  n't  a  threat,  Mr.  Fenwick, 
—  you  will  understand  that,  I  am  sure.  It  is  simply  a 
matter  of  business,  and  owing  to  Morrison's  speculations 
I  have  no  time  for  arguments.  I  am  quite  satisfied  to  re- 
main in  your  hands,  but  my  feeling  in  the  matter  is  exactly 
as  I  have  stated,  and  I  cannot  change.  If  you  are  to  retain 
my  account,  my  engagements  for  to-day  must  be  met 
precisely  in  the  way  I  have  pointed  out." 

The  banker  excused  himself  and  left  the  room  for  a 
few  moments.  When  he  returned,  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 


98  HAVOC 

ders  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  giving  in  to  an  unreason- 
able client. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  announced. 
"The  notes  are  placed  upon  deposit.  Your  engagements 
to-day  up  to  twenty  thousand  pounds  shall  be  duly 
honored." 

Laverick  shook  hands  with  him,  talked  for  a  moment 
or  two  about  indifferent  matters,  and  strolled  back  towards 
his  office.  He  had  rather  the  sense  of  a  man  who  moves 
in  a  dream,  who  is  living,  somehow,  in  a  life  which  does  n't 
belong  to  him.  He  was  doing  the  impossible.  He  knew 
very  well  that  his  name  was  in  every  one's  mouth.  People 
were  looking  at  him  sympathetically,  wondering  how  he 
could  have  been  such  a  fool  as  to  become  the  victim  of  an 
irresponsible  speculator.  No  one  ever  imagined  that  he 
would  be  able  to  keep  his  engagements.  And  he  had 
done  it.  The  price  might  be  a  great  one,  but  he  was  pre- 
pared to  pay.  At  any  moment  the  sensational  news  might 
be  upon  the  placards,  and  the  whole  world  might  know 
that  the  man  who  had  been  murdered  in  Crooked  Friars 
last  night  had  first  been  robbed  of  twenty  thousand  pounds. 
So  far  he  had  felt  himself  curiously  free  from  anything 
in  the  shape  of  direct  apprehensions.  Already,  however, 
the  shadow  was  beginning  to  fall.  Even  as  he  entered  his 
office,  the  sight  of  a  stranger  offering  office  files  for  sale 
made  him  start.  He  half  expected  to  feel  a  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  a  few  words  whispered  in  his  ear.  He  set 
his  teeth  tight.  This  was  his  risk  and  he  must  take  it. 

For  several  hours  he  remained  in  his  office,  engaged  in 
a  scheme  for  the  redirection  of  its  policy.  With  the 
absence  of  Morrison,  too,  there  were  other  changes  to  be 
made,  —  changes  in  the  nature  of  the  business  they  were 
prepared  to  handle,  limits  to  be  fixed.  It  was  not  until 


STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE     99 

nearly  luncheon  time  that  the  telephone,  the  simultaneous 
arrival  of  several  clients,  and  the  breathless  entry  of  his 
own  head-clerk  rushing  in  from  the  house,  told  him  what 
was  going  on. 

"'Unions'  have  taken  their  turn  at  last!"  the  clerk 
announced,  in  an  excited  tone.  "They  sagged  a  little 
this  morning,  but  since  eleven  they  have  been  going  steadily 
up.  Just  now  there  seems  to  be  a  boom.  Listen." 

Laverick  heard  the  roar  of  voices  in  the  street,  and 
nodded.  He  was  prepared  to  be  surprised  at  nothing. 

"They  were  bound  to  go  within  a  day  or  two,"  he 
remarked.  "  Morrison  was  n't  an  absolute  idiot." 

The  luncheon  hour  passed.  The  excitement  in  the 
city  grew.  By  three  o'clock,  ten  thousand  pounds  would 
have  covered  all  of  Laverick's  engagements.  Just  before 
closing-time,  it  was  even  doubtful  whether  he  might  not 
have  borrowed  every  penny  without  security  at  all.  He 
took  it  all  quite  calmly  and  as  a  matter  of  course.  He 
left  the  office  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  and  every  man 
whom  he  met  stopped  to  slap  him  on  the  back  and  chaff 
him.  He  escaped  as  soon  as  he  could,  bought  the  even- 
ing papers,  found  a  taxicab,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  started 
spread  them  open.  It  was  a  remarkable  proof  of  the 
man's  self-restraint  that  at  no  time  during  the  afternoon 
had  he  sent  out  for  one  of  these  early  editions.  He  turned 
them  over  now  with  firm  fingers.  There  was  absolutely 
no  fresh  news.  No  one  had  come  forward  with  any  sug- 
gestion as  to  the  identity  of  the  murdered  man.  All  day 
long  the  body  had  lain  in  the  Mortuary,  visited  by  a  con- 
stant stream  of  the  curious,  but  presumably  unrecognized. 
Laverick  could  scarcely  believe  the  words  he  read.  The 
thing  semed  ludicrously  impossible.  The  twenty  thousand 
pounds  must  have  come  from  some  one.  Why  did  they 


ioo  HAVOC 

keep  silence?  What  was  the  mystery  about  it?  Could  it 
be  that  they  were  not  in  a  position  to  disclose  the  fact? 
Curiously  enough,  this  unnatural  absence  of  news  inspired 
him  with  something  which  was  almost  fear.  He  had 
taken  his  risks  boldly  enough.  Now  that  Fate  was  play- 
ing him  this  unexpectedly  good  turn,  he  was  conscious  of 
a  growing  nervousness.  Who  could  he  have  been,  this 
man  ?  Whence  could  he  have  derived  this  great  sum  ? 
One  person  at  least  must  know  that  he  had  been  robbed 
—  the  man  who  murdered  him  must  know  it.  A  cold 
shiver  passed  through  Laverick's  veins  at  the  thought. 
Somewhere  in  London  there  must  be  a  man  thirsting  for 
his  blood,  a  man  who  had  committed  a  murder  in  vain 
and  been  robbed  of  his  spoil. 

Laverick  had  no  engagements  for  that  evening,  but 
instead  of  going  to  his  club  he  drove  straight  to  his  rooms, 
meaning  to  change  a  little  early  for  dinner  and  go  to  a 
theatre.  He  found  there,  however,  a  small  boy  waiting 
for  him  with  a  note  in  his  hand.  It  was  addressed  in 
pencil  only,  and  his  name  was  printed  upon  it. 

Laverick  tore  it  open  with  a  haste  which  he  only  im- 
perfectly concealed.  There  was  something  ominous  to 
him  in  those  printed  characters.  Its  contents,  however, 
were  short  enough. 

DEAR  LAVERICK, 

I  must  see  you.  Come  the  moment  you  get  this.  Come 
without  fail,  for  your  own  sake  and  mine.  A.  M. 

Laverick  looked  at  the  boy.  His  fingers  were  trembling, 
but  it  was  with  relief.  The  note  was  from  Morrison. 

"There  is  no  address  here,"  he  remarked. 

"The  gent  said  as  I  was  to  take  you  back  with  me," 
the  boy  answered. 


STEPHEN  LAVERICK'S  CONSCIENCE  101 

"Is  it  far?"  Laverick  asked. 

"Close  to  Red  Lion  Square,"  the  boy  declared.  "Not 
more  nor  five  minutes  in  one  of  them  taxicabs.  The 
gent  said  we  was  to  take  one.  He  is  in  a  great  hurry  to 
see  you." 

Laverick  did  not  hesitate  a  moment. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "we'll  start  at  once." 

He  put  on  his  hat  again  and  waited  while  the  commis- 
sionaire called  them  a  taxicab. 

"What  address?"  he  asked. 

"Number  7,  Theobald  Square,"  the  boy  said. 

Laverick  nodded  and  repeated  the  address  to  the  driver. 

"What  the  dickens  can  Morrison  be  doing  in  a  part 
like  that!"  he  thought,  as  they  passed  up  Northumber- 
land Avenue. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ARTHUR  MORRISON'S  COLLAPSE 

THE  Square  was  a  small  one,  and  in  a  particularly  un- 
savory neighborhood.  Laverick,  who  had  once  visited 
his  partner's  somewhat  extensive  suite  of  rooms  in  Jermyn 
Street,  rang  the  bell  doubtfully.  The  door  was  opened 
almost  at  once,  not  by  a  servant  but  by  a  young  lady  who 
was  obviously  expecting  him.  Before  he  could  open  his 
lips  to  frame  an  inquiry,  she  had  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

"Will  you  please  come  this  way?"   she  said  timidly. 

Laverick  found  himself  in  a  small  sitting-room,  unex- 
pectedly neat,  and  with  the  plainness  of  its  furniture 
relieved  by  certain  undeniable  traces  of  some  cultured 
presence.  The  girl  who  had  followed  him  stood  with  her 
back  to  the  door,  a  little  out  of  breath.  Laverick  contem- 
plated her  in  surprise.  She  was  under  medium  height, 
with  small  pale  face  and  wonderful  dark  eyes.  Her  brown 
hair  was  parted  in  the  middle  and  arranged  low  down, 
so  that  at  first,  taking  into  account  her  obvious  nervous- 
ness, he  thought  that  she  was  a  child.  When  she  spoke, 
however,  he  knew  that  for  some  reason  she  was  afraid. 
Her  voice  was  soft  and  low,  but  it  was  the  voice  of  a 
woman. 

"It  is  Mr.  Laverick,  is  it  not?"  she  asked,  looking  at 
him  eagerly. 

"My  name  is  Stephen  Laverick,"  he  admitted.  "I 
understood  that  I  should  find  Mr.  Arthur  Morrison  here." 


ARTHUR    MORRISON'S    COLLAPSE     103 

"Yes,"  the  girl  answered,  "he  sent  for  you.  The  note 
was  from  him.  He  is  here." 

She  made  no  movement  to  summon  him.  She  still 
stood,  in  fact,  with  her  back  to  the  door.  Laverick  was 
distinctly  puzzled.  He  felt  himself  unable  to  place  this 
timid,  childlike  woman,  with  her  terrified  face  and  beauti- 
ful eyes.  He  had  never  heard  Morrison  speak  of  having 
any  relations.  His  presence  in  such  a  locality,  indeed, 
was  hard  to  understand  unless  he  had  met  with  an  acci- 
dent. Morrison  was  one  of  those  young  men  who  would 
have  chosen  Hell  with  a  "  W"  rather  than  Heaven  E.  C. 

"I  am  afraid,"  Laverick  said,  "that  for  some  reason 
or  other  you  are  afraid  of  me.  I  can  assure  you  that  I 
am  quite  harmless,"  he  added  smiling.  "Won't  you  sit 
down  and  tell  me  what  is  the  matter?  Is  Mr.  Morrison 
in  any  trouble?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  he  is.    As  for  me,  I  am  terrified." 

She  came  a  little  away  from  the  door.  Laverick  was 
a  man  who  inspired  trust.  His  tone,  too,  was  unusually 
kind.  He  had  the  protective  instinct  of  a  big  man  toward 
a  small  woman. 

"  Come  and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  suggested.  "  I  ex- 
pected to  hear  that  he  had  gone  abroad." 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  tremu- 
lously. "  I  was  hoping  that  you  could  have  told  me  what 
it  was  — that  had  come  to  him." 

"Well,  that  rather  depends,"  Laverick  answered.  "We 
certainly  had  a  terribly  anxious  time  yesterday.  Our 
business  has  been  most  unfortunate  — " 

"Yes,  yes!"  the  girl  interrupted.  "Please  go  on. 
There  have  been  business  troubles,  then." 

"Rather,"  Laverick  continued.  "Last  night  they 
reached  such  a  pitch  that  I  gave  Morrison  some  money 


io4  HAVOC 

and  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  leave  the  firm  and  try 
his  luck  somewhere  else.  I  quite  understood  that  he  was 
going  abroad." 

The  girl  seemed,  for  some  reason,  relieved. 

"There  was  something,  then,"  she  said,  half  to  herself. 
"  There  was  something.  Oh,  I  am  glad  of  that !  You 
were  angry  with  him,  perhaps,  Mr.  Laverick?" 

Laverick  stood  with  his  back  to  the  little  fireplace  and 
with  his  hands  behind  him  —  a  commanding  figure  in 
the  tiny  room  full  of  feminine  trifles.  He  looked  a  great 
deal  more  at  his  ease  than  he  really  was. 

"Perhaps  I  was  inclined  to  be  short-tempered,"  he 
admitted.  "You  see,  to  be  frank  with  you,  the  depart- 
ment of  our  business  that  was  going  wrong  was  the  one 
over  which  Morrison  has  had  sole  control.  He  had 
entered  into  certain  speculations  which  I  considered  un- 
justifiable. To-day,  however,  matters  took  an  unexpected 
turn  for  the  better." 

Almost  as  he  spoke  his  face  clouded.  Morrison,  of 
course,  would  be  triumphant.  Perhaps  he  would  even 
expect  to  be  reinstated.  For  many  reasons,  this  was  a 
thing  which  Laverick  did  not  desire. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  he  continued,  "  what  is  the  matter  with 
Morrison,  and  why  has  he  sent  for  me,  and,  if  you  will 
pardon  my  saying  so,  why  is  he  here  instead  of  in  his 
own  rooms  ?  " 

"  I  will  explain,"  she  began  softly. 

"You  will  please  explain  sitting  down,"  he  said  firmly. 

"And  don't  look  so  terrified,"  he  added,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "I  can  assure  you  that  I  am  not  going  to  eat  you, 
or  anything  of  that  sort.  You  make  me  feel  quite  uncom- 
fortable." 

She  smiled  for  the  first  time,  and  Laverick  thought 


ARTHUR    MORRISON'S    COLLAPSE     105 

that  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  wonderful  as  the 
change  in  her  features.  The  strained  rigidity  passed 
away.  An  altogether  softer  light  gleamed  in  her  wonder- 
ful eyes.  She  was  certainly  by  far  the  prettiest  child  he 
had  ever  seen.  As  yet  he  could  not  take  her  altogether 
seriously. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  sinking  down  upon  the  arm  of 
an  easy-chair.  "First  of  all,  then,  Arthur  is  here  because 
he  is  my  brother." 

"Your  brother!"   Laverick  repeated  wonderingly. 

Somehow  or  other,  he  had  never  associated  Morrison 
with  relations.  Besides,  this  meant  that  she  must  be  of 
his  race.  There  was  nothing  in  her  face  to  denote  it 
except  the  darkness  of  her  eyes,  and  that  nameless  charm 
of  manner,  a  sort  of  ultra-sensitiveness,  which  belongs 
sometimes  to  the  highest  type  of  Jews.  It  was  not  a  quality, 
Laverick  thought,  which  he  should  have  associated  with 
Morrison's  sister. 

"My  brother,  in  a  way,"  she  resumed.  "Arthur's 
father  was  a  widower  and  my  mother  was  a  widow  when 
they  were  married.  You  are  surprised?" 

"There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be,"  he  answered, 
curiously  relieved  at  her  last  statement.  "Your  brother 
and  I  have  been  connected  in  business  for  some  years. 
We  have  seen  very  little  of  one  another  outside." 

"I  dare  say,"  she  continued,  still  timidly,  "that  Arthur's 
friends  would  not  be  your  friends,  and  that  he  would  n't 
care  for  the  same  sort  of  things.  You  see,  my  mother  is 
dead  and  also  his  father,  and  as  we  are  n't  really  related 
at  all,  I  cannot  expect  that  he  would  come  to  see  me  very 
often.  Last  night,  though,  quite  late  —  long  after  I  had 
gone  to  bed  —  he  rang  the  bell  here.  I  was  frightened, 
for  just  now  I  am  all  alone,  and  my  servant  only  comes  in 


io6  HAVOC 

the  morning.  So  I  looked  out  of  the  window  and  I  saw 
him  on  the  pavement,  huddled  up  against  the  door.  I 
hurried  down  and  let  him  in.  Mr.  Laverick,"  she  went 
on,  with  an  appealing  glance  at  him,  "I  have  never  seen 
any  one  look  like  it.  He  was  terrified  to  death.  Some- 
thing seemed  to  have  happened  which  had  taken  away 
from  him  even  the  power  of  speech.  He  pushed  past  me 
into  this  room,  threw  himself  into  that  chair,"  she  added, 
pointing  across  the  room,  "and  he  sobbed  and  beat  his 
hands  upon  his  knees  as  though  he  were  a  woman  in  a  fit 
of  hysterics.  His  clothes  were  all  untidy,  he  was  as  pale 
as  death,  and  his  eyes  looked  as  though  they  were  ready 
to  start  out  of  his  head." 

"You  must  indeed  have  been  frightened,"  Laverick 
said  softly. 

"  Frightened  !  I  shall  never  forget  it !  I  did  not  sleep 
all  night.  He  would  tell  me  nothing  —  he  has  scarcely 
spoken  a  sensible  word.  Early  this  morning  I  persuaded 
him  to  go  upstairs,  and  made  him  lie  down.  He  has  taken 
two  draughts  which  I  bought  from  the  chemist,  but  he 
has  not  slept.  Every  now  and  then  he  tries  to  get  up, 
but  in  a  minute  or  two  he  throws  himself  down  on  the 
bed  again  and  hides  his  face.  If  any  one  rings  at  the 
bell,  he  shrieks.  If  he  hears  a  footfall  in  the  street,  even, 
he  calls  out  for  me.  Mr.  Laverick,  I  have  never  been  so 
frightened  in  my  life.  I  did  n't  know  whom  to  send  for 
or  what  to  do.  When  he  wrote  that  note  to  you  I  was 
so  relieved.  You  can't  imagine  how  glad  I  am  to  think 
you  have  come!" 

Laverick's  eyes  were  full  of  sympathy.  One  could  see 
that  the  scene  of  last  night  had  risen  up  again  before  her 
eyes.  She  was  shrinking  back,  and  the  terror  was  upon 
her  once  more.  He  moved  over  to  her  side,  and  with  an 


ARTHUR    MORRISON'S    COLLAPSE     107 

impulse  which,  when  he  thought  of  it  afterwards,  amazed 
him,  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Don't  worry  yourself  thinking  about  it,"  he  said.  "I 
will  talk  to  your  brother.  We  did  have  words,  I'll  admit, 
last  night,  but  there  was  n't  the  slightest  reason  why  it 
should  have  upset  him  in  this  way.  Things  in  the  city 
were  shocking  yesterday,  but  they  have  improved  a  great 
deal  to-day.  Let  me  go  upstairs  and  I'll  try  and  pump 
some  courage  into  him." 

"You  are  so  kind,"  she  murmured,  suddenly  dropping 
her  hands  from  before  her  face  and  looking  up  at  him 
with  shining  eyes,  "  so  very  kind.  Will  you  come, 
then?" 

She  rose  and  he  followed  her  out  of  the  room,  up  the 
stairs,  and  into  a  tiny  bedroom.  Laverick  had  no  time 
to  look  around,  but  it  seemed  to  him,  notwithstanding 
the  cheap  white  furniture  and  very  ordinary  appoint- 
ments, that  the  same  note  of  dainty  femininity  pervaded 
this  little  apartment  as  the  one  below. 

"It  is  my  room,"  she  said  shyly.  "There  is  no  other 
properly  furnished,  and  I  thought  that  he  might  sleep 
upon  the  bed." 

"Perhaps  he  is  asleep  now,"  Laverick  whispered. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  dark  figure  stretched  upon  the 
sheets  sprang  into  a  sitting  posture.  Laverick  was  con- 
scious of  a  distinct  shock.  It  was  Morrison,  still  wearing 
the  clothes  in  which  he  had  left  the  office,  his  collar  crushed 
out  of  all  shape,  his  tie  vanished.  His  black  hair,  usually 
so  shiny  and  perfectly  arranged,  was  all  disordered.  Out 
of  his  staring  eyes  flashed  an  expression  which  one  sees 
seldom  in  life,  —  an  expression  of  real  and  mortal  terror. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  cried  out,  and  even  his  voice  was 
unrecognizable.  "  Who  is  that  ?  What  do  you  want  ?" 


io8  HAVOC 

"  It  is  I  —  Laverick,"  Laverick  answered.  "  What  on 
earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  man  ?" 

Morrison  drew  a  quick  breath.  Some  part  of  the  terror 
seemed  to  leave  his  face,  but  he  was  still  an  alarming- 
looking  object.  Laverick  quietly  opened  the  door  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"Will  you  leave  us  alone?"  he  asked.  "I  will  come 
and  talk  to  you  afterwards,  if  I  may." 

She  nodded  understandingly,  and  passed  out.  Laverick 
closed  the  door  and  came  up  to  the  bedside. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  thunder  has  come  over  you,  Mor- 
rison?" he  said.  "Are  you  ill,  or  what  is  it?" 

Morrison  opened  his  lips  —  opened  them  twice  — 
without  any  sort  of  sound  issuing. 

"This  is  absurd!"  Laverick  exclaimed  protestingly. 
"I  have  been  feeling  worried  myself,  but  there's  nothing 
so  terrifying  in  losing  one's  money,  after  all.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  things  are  altogether  better  in  the  city  to-day. 
You  made  a  big  mistake  in  taking  us  out  of  our  depth, 
but  we  are  going  to  pull  through,  after  all.  '  Unions ' 
have  been  going  up  all  day." 

Laverick's  presence,  and  the  sound  of  his  even,  matter- 
of-fact  tone,  seemed  to  act  like  a  tonic  upon  his  late  partner. 
He  made  no  reference,  however,  to  Laverick's  words. 

"You  got  my  note?"  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"Naturally  I  got  it,"  Laverick  answered  impatiently, 
"and  I  came  at  once.  Try  and  pull  yourself  together. 
Sit  up  and  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  here,  frightening 
your  sister  out  of  her  life." 

Morrison  groaned. 

"  I  came  here,"  he  muttered,  "  because  I  dared  not  go 
to  my  own  rooms.  I  was  afraid !" 

Laverick  struggled  with  the  contempt  he  felt. 


ARTHUR    MORRISON'S     COLLAPSE     109 

"  Man  alive,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  was  there  to  be  afraid 
of?" 

"You  don't  know!"  Morrison  faltered.  "You  don't 
know!" 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  it  occurred  to  Laverick  that 
perhaps  the  financial  crisis  in  their  affairs  was  not  the  only 
thing  which  had  reduced  his  late  partner  to  this  hopeless 
state.  He  looked  at  him  narrowly. 

"Where  did  you  go  last  night,"  he  asked,  "when  you 
left  me?" 

"Nowhere,"  Morrison  gasped.    "I  came  here." 

Laverick  made  a  space  for  himself  at  the  end  of  the 
bed,  and  sat  down. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  it's  no  use  sending  for  me  unless 
you  mean  to  tell  me  everything.  Have  you  been  getting 
yourself  into  any  trouble  apart  from  our  affairs,  or  is  there 
anything  in  connection  with  them  which  I  don't  know?" 

Again  Morrison  opened  his  lips,  and  again,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  he  remained  speechless.  Then  a  certain 
fear  came  also  upon  Laverick.  There  was  something  in. 
Morrison's  state  which  was  in  itself  terrifying. 

"You  had  better  tell  me  all  about  it,"  Laverick  per- 
sisted, "whatever  it  is.  I  will  help  you  if  I  can." 

Morrison  shook  his  head.  There  was  a  glass  of  water 
by  his  side.  He  thrust  his  finger  into  it  and  passed  it 
across  his  lips.  They  were  dry,  almost  cracking. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "I've  got  a  breakdown  — that's 
what's  the  matter  with  me.  My  nerves  were  never  good. 
I'm  afraid  of  going  mad.  The  anxiety  of  the  last  few 
weeks  has  been  too  much  for  me.  I  want  to  get  out  of 
the  country  quickly,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  manage 
it.  I  can't  think.  Directly  I  try  to  think  my  head  goes 
round." 


no  HAVOC 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  prevent  your  going 
away,"  Laverick  answered.  "It  is  the  simplest  matter 
possible.  Even  if  we  had  gone  under  to-day,  no  one 
could  have  stopped  your  going  wherever  you  chose  to 
go.  Ruin,  even  if  it  had  been  ruin, —  and  I  told  you  just 
now  that  business  was  better, —  is  not  a  crime.  Pull 
yourself  together,  for  Heaven's  sake,  man !  You  should 
be  ashamed  to  come  here  and  frighten  that  poor  little 
girl  downstairs  almost  to  death." 

Morrison  gripped  his  partner's  arm. 

"You  must  do  as  I  ask,"  he  declared  hoarsely.  "It 
does  n't  matter  about  prices  being  better.  I  want  to  get 
away.  You  must  help  me." 

Laverick  looked  at  him  steadily.  Morrison  was  an  ordi- 
nary young  man  of  his  type,  something  of  a  swaggerer, 
probably  at  heart  a  coward.  But  this  was  no  ordinary 
fear  — not  even  the  ordinary  fear  of  a  coward.  Laverick's 
face  became  graver.  There  was  something  else,  then ! 

"I  will  get  you  out  of  the  country  if  I  can,"  said  he. 
"  There  is  no  difficulty  about  it  at  all  unless  you  are  con- 
cealing something  from  me.  You  can  catch  a  fast  steamer 
to-morrow,  either  for  South  Africa  or  New  York,  but 
before  I  make  any  definite  plans,  had  n't  you  better  tell 
me  exactly  what  happened  last  night?" 

Once  more  Morrison's  lips  parted  without  the  ability 
to  frame  words.  Then  a  feeble  moan  escaped  him.  He 
threw  up  his  hands  and  his  head  fell  back.  The  ghastli- 
ness  of  his  face  spread  almost  to  his  lips,  and  he  sank 
back  among  the  pillows.  Laverick  strode  across  the 
room  to  the  door. 

"Are  you  anywhere  about?"   he  called  out. 

The  girl  was  by  his  side  in  a  moment. 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,"  he  said,  "but 


ARTHUR    MORRISON'S    COLLAPSE     in 

your  brother  has  fainted.  Bring  me  some  sal  volatile 
if  you  have  it,  and  I  think  that  you  had  better  run  out 
and  get  a  doctor.  I  will  stay  with  him.  I  know  exactly 
what  to  do." 

She  pointed  to  the  dressing-table,  where  a  little  bottle 
was  standing,  and  ran  downstairs  without  a  word.  Lav- 
erick  mixed  some  of  the  spirit,  and  moved  over  to  the  side 
of  the  fainting  man. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MAVERICK'S  PARTNER  FLEES 

THE  doctor,  a  grave,  incurious  person,  arrived  within  a 
few  minutes  to  find  Morrison  already  conscious  but  abso- 
lutely exhausted.  He  felt  his  patient's  pulse,  prescribed 
a  draught,  and  followed  Laverick  down  into  the  sitting- 
room. 

"An  ordinary  case  of  nervous  exhaustion,"  he  pro- 
nounced. "The  patient  appears  to  have  had  a  very 
severe  shock  lately.  He  will  be  all  right  with  proper  diet 
and  treatment,  and  a  complete  rest.  I  will  call  again 
to-morrow." 

He  accepted  the  fee  which  Laverick  slipped  into  his 
hand,  and  took  his  departure.  Once  more  Laverick 
was  alone  with  the  girl,  who  had  followed  them  down- 
stairs. 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,  you  see,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  It  is  not  his  health  which  frightens  me.  I  am  sure  — 
I  am  quite  sure  that  he  has  something  upon  his  mind. 
Did  he  tell  you  nothing?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  Laverick  answered,  with  an  inward 
sense  of  thankfulness.  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  though, 
I  am  afraid  you  are  right  and  that  he  did  get  into  some 
sort  of  trouble  last  night.  He  was  just  about  to  tell  me 
something  when  he  fainted." 

Upstairs  they  could  hear  him  moaning.  The  girl  listened 
with  pitiful  face. 


LAVERICK'S    PARTNER    FLEES      113 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  she  asked.  "  I  cannot  leave  him 
like  this,  and  if  I  am  not  at  the  theatre  in  twenty  minutes, 
I  shall  be  fined." 

"The  theatre?"  Laverick  repeated. 

She  nodded. 

"I  am  on  the  stage,"  she  said,  — "only  a  chorus  girl 
at  the  Universal,  worse  luck.  Still,  they  don't  allow  us 
to  stay  away,  and  I  can't  afford  to  lose  my  place." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  been  keeping  your- 
self here,  then?"  Laverick  asked  bluntly. 

"Of  course,"  she  answered.  "I  do  not  like  to  be  a 
burden  on  any  one,  and  after  all,  you  see,  Arthur  and  I 
are  really  not  related  at  all.  He  has  always  told  me,  too, 
that  times  have  been  so  bad  lately." 

Laverick  was  on  the  point  of  telling' her  that  bad  though 
they  had  been  Arthur  Morrison  had  never  drawn  less 
than  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  but  he  checked  himself.  It 
was  not  his  business  to  interfere. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  your  brother  ought  to  have 
provided  for  you.  He  could  have  done  so  with  very  little 
effort." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  now?"  she  asked  him.  "If  I 
am  absent,  I  shall  lose  my  place." 

Laverick  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  If  you  went  round  there  and  told  them,"  he  suggested, 
"  would  that  make  any  difference  ?  I  could  stay  until  you 
came  back." 

"  Do  you  mind  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly.  "  It  would  be  so 
kind  of  you." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "Perhaps  you  would  be 
good  enough  to  bring  a  taxicab  back,  and  I  could  take 
it  on  to  my  rooms.  Take  one  from  here,  if  you  can  find 
it.  There  are  always  some  at  the  corner." 


ii4  HAVOC 

. "  I  'd  love  to,"  she  answered.  "  I  must  run  upstairs  and 
get  my  hat  and  coat." 

He  watched  her  go  up  on  tiptoe  for  fear  of  disturbing 
her  brother.  Her  feet  seemed  almost  unearthly  in  the 
lightness  of  their  pressure.  Not  a  board  creaked.  She 
seemed  to  float  down  to  him  in  a  most  becoming  little  hat 
but  a  shockingly  shabby  jacket,  of  whose  deficiencies  she 
seemed  wholly  unaware.  Her  lips  were  parted  once  more 
in  a  smile. 

"He  is  fast  asleep  and  breathing  quite  regularly,"  she 
announced.  "  It  is  nice  of  you  to  stay." 

He  looked  at  her  almost  jealously. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "you  ought  not  to  go  about 
alone?" 

She  laughed,  softly  but  heartily. 

"Have  you  any  idea  how  old  I  am?" 

"I  took  you  for  fourteen  when  I  came  inside,"  he 
answered.  "Afterwards  I  thought  you  might  be  sixteen. 
Later  on,  it  seemed  to  me  possible  that  you  were  eighteen. 
I  am  absolutely  certain  that  you  are  not  more  than 
nineteen." 

"That  shows  how  little  you  know  about  it.  I  am 
twenty,  and  I  am  quite  used  to  going  about  alone.  Will 
you  sit  upstairs  or  here?  I  am  so  sorry  that  I  have 
nothing  to  offer  you." 

"Thanks,  I  need  nothing.  I  think  I  will  sit  upstairs 
in  case  he  wakes." 

She  nodded  and  stole  out,  closing  the  door  behind  her 
noiselessly.  Laverick  watched  her  from  the  window  until 
she  was  out  of  sight,  moving  without  any  appearance  of 
haste,  yet  with  an  incredible  swiftness.  When  she  had 
turned  the  corner,  he  went  slowly  upstairs  and  into  the 
room  where  Morrison  still  lay  asleep.  He  drew  a  chair 


LAVERICK'S    PARTNER    FLEES      115 

to  the  bedside  and  leaning  forward  opened  out  the  even- 
ing paper.  The  events  of  the  last  hour  or  so  had  com- 
pletely blotted  out  from  his  mind,  for  the  time  being,  his 
own  expedition  into  the  world  of  tragical  happenings.  He 
glanced  at  the  sleeping  man,  then  opened  his  paper. 
There  was  very  little  fresh  news  except  that  this  time  the 
fact  was  mentioned  that  upon  the  body  of  the  murdered 
man  was  discovered  a  sum  larger  than  was  at  first  sup- 
posed. It  seemed  doubtful,  therefore,  whether  robbery, 
after  all,  was  the  motive  of  the  crime,  especially  as  it  took 
place  in  a  neighborhood  which  was  by  no  means  infested 
with  criminals.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  political  motive, 
a  reference  to  the  "  Black  Hand,"  concerning  whose  doings 
the  papers  had  been  full  since  the  murder  of  a  well-known 
detective  a  few  weeks  ago.  But  apart  from  this  there  was 
nothing  fresh. 

Laverick  folded  up  the  paper  and  leaned  back  in  his 
chair.  The  strain  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  was  be- 
ginning to  tell  even  upon  his  robust  constitution.  The 
atmosphere  of  the  room,  too,  was  close.  He  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  was  suddenly  weary.  Perhaps  he  dozed. 
At  any  rate,  the  whisper  which  called  him  back  to  reali- 
zation of  where  he  was,  came  to  him  so  unexpectedly  that 
he  sat  up  with  a  sudden  start. 

Morrison's  eyes  were  open,  he  had  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow,  his  lips  were  parted.  His  manner  was  quieter, 
but  there  were  black  lines  deep  engraven  under  his  eyes, 
in  which  there  still  shone  something  of  that  haunting 
fear. 

"Laverick!"  he  repeated  hoarsely. 

Laverick,  fully  awakened  now,  leaned  towards  him. 

"Hullo,"  he  said,  "are  you  feeling  more  like  yourself?" 

Morrison  nodded. 


n6  HAVOC 

"Yes,"  he  admitted,  "I  am  feeling — better.  How 
did  you  come  here?  I  can't  remember  anything." 

"You  sent  for  me,"  Laverick  answered.  "I  arrived  to 
find  you  pretty  well  in  a  state  of  collapse.  Your  sister 
has  gone  round  to  the  theatre  to  ask  them  to  excuse  her 
this  evening." 

"I  remember  now  that  I  sent  for  you,"  Morrison  con- 
tinued. "Tell  me,  has  any  one  been  around  at  the  office 
asking  after  me?" 

"No  one  particular,"  Laverick  answered,  —  "no  one 
at  all  that  I  can  think  of.  There  were  one  or  two  inquiries 
through  the  telephone,  but  they  were  all  ordinary  business 
matters." 

The  man  on  the  bed  drew  a  little  breath  which  sounded 
like  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,  Laverick,"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

"You  are  making  a  worse  one  of  yourself  by  lying 
here  and  giving  way,"  Laverick  declared,  "  besides  fright- 
ening your  sister  half  to  death. 

Morrison  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  We  talked  —  some  time  ago,  "  he  went  on,  "  about 
my  getting  away.  You  promised  that  you  would  help 
me.  You  said  that  I  could  get  off  to  Africa  or  America 
to-morrow." 

"Not  the  slightest  difficulty  about  that,"  Laverick 
answered.  "There  are  half-a-dozen  steamers  sailing,  at 
least.  At  the  same  time,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  remind  you 
that  the  firm  is  going  to  pull  through.  Mind  —  don't 
take  this  unkindly  but  the  truth  is  best  —  I  will  not  have 
you  back  again.  There  may  have  to  be  a  more  definite 
readjustment  of  our  affairs  now,  but  the  old  business  is 
finished  with." 


LAVERICK'S    PARTNER    FLEES      117 

"I  don't  want  to  come  back,"  Morrison  murmured. 
"  I  have  had  enough  of  the  city  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  'd 
rather  get  away  somewhere  and  make  a  fresh  start.  You  '11 
help  me,  Laverick,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  will  help  you,"  Laverick  promised. 

"You  were  always  a  good  sort,"  Morrison  continued, 
"  much  too  good  for  me.  It  was  a  rotten  partnership  for 
you.  We  could  never  have  pulled  together." 

"  Let  that  go,"  Laverick  interrupted.  "  If  you  really  mean 
getting  away,  that  simplifies  matters,  of  course.  Have  you 
made  any  plans  at  all?  Where  do  you  want  to  go?" 

"To  New  York,"  answered  Morrison;  "New  York 
would  suit  me  best.  There  is  money  to  be  made  there  if 
one  has  something  to  make  a  start  with." 

"There  will  be  some  more  money  to  come  to  you," 
Laverick  answered,  "  probably  a  great  deal  more.  I  shall 
place  our  affairs  in  the  hands  of  an  accountant,  and  shall 
have  an  estimate  drawn  up  to  yesterday.  You  shall  have 
every  penny  that  is  due  to  you.  You  have  quite  enough, 
however,  to  get  there  with.  I  will  see  to  your  ticket  to- 
night, if  possible.  When  you've  arrived  you  can  cable 
me  your  address,  or  you  can  decide  where  you  will  stay 
before  you  leave,  and  I  will  send  you  a  further  remittance." 

"You're  a  good  sort,  Laverick,"  Morrison  mumbled. 

"  You  'd  better  give  me  the  key  of  your  rooms,"  Laverick 
continued,  "and  I  will  go  back  and  put  together  some  of 
your  things.  I  suppose  you  will  not  want  much  to  go  away 
with.  The  rest  can  be  sent  on  afterwards.  And  what 
about  your  letters?" 

Morrison,  with  a  sudden  movement,  threw  himself 
almost  out  of  the  bed.  He  clutched  at  Laverick's  shoulder 
frantically. 

"Don't   go   near  my  rooms,   Laverick!"    he  begged. 


u8  HAVOC 

"  Promise  me  that  you  won't !  I  don't  want  any  letters ! 
I  don't  want  any  of  my  things !" 

Laverick  was  dumfounded. 

"  You  mean  you  want  to  go  away  without  — 

"I  mean  just  what  I  have  said,"  Morrison  continued 
hysterically.  "If  you  go  there  they  will  watch  you,  they 
will  follow  you,  they  will  find  out  where  I  am.  I  should 
be  there  now  but  for  that." 

Laverick  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  matter  was 
becoming  serious. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  I  will  do  as  you  say.  I  will  not 
go  near  your  rooms.  I  will  get  you  a  few  things  some- 
where to  start  with." 

Morrison  sank  back  upon  his  pillow. 

"Thank  you,  Laverick,"  he  said;  "thank  you.  I  wish 
—  I  wish— " 

His  voice  seemed  to  die  away.  Laverick  glanced  towards 
him,  wondering  at  the  unfinished  sentence.  Once  again 
the  man's  face  seemed  to  be  convulsed  with  horror.  He 
flung  himself  face  downward  upon  the  bed  and  tore  at  the 
sheets  with  both  his  hands. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  Laverick  said  sternly.  "If  you've 
anything  on  your  mind  apart  from  business,  tell  me  about 
it  and  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  help  you." 

Morrison  made  no  reply.  He  was  sobbing  now  like  a 
child.  Laverick  rose  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  window. 
What  was  to  be  done  with  such  a  creature !  When  he 
got  back,  Morrison  had  raised  himself  once  more  into  a 
sitting  posture.  His  appearance  was  absolutely  spectral. 

"Laverick,"  he  said  feebly,  "there  is  something  else, 
but  I  cannot  tell  you  —  I  cannot  tell  any  one." 

"Just  as  you  please,  of  course,"  Laverick  answered* 
"  I  am  simply  anxious  to  help  you." 


LAVERICK'S    PARTNER    FLEES      119 

"You  can  do  that  as  it  is!"  Morrison  exclaimed 
feverishly.  "  You  must  promise  me  something  —  promise 
that  if  any  one  asks  for  me  to-morrow  before  I  get  away, 
you  will  not  tell  them  where  I  am.  Say  you  suppose  that 
I  am  at  my  rooms,  or  that  I  have  gone  into  the  country 
for  a  few  days.  Say  that  you  are  expecting  me  back. 
Don't  let  any  one  know  that  I  have  gone  abroad,  until 
I  am  safely  away.  And  then  don't  tell  a  soul  where  I  have 
gone." 

"Have  you  been  up  to  any  tricks  with  your  friends?" 
Laverick  asked  sternly. 

"  I  have  n't  —  I  swear  that  I  have  n't,"  Morrison  de- 
clared. "It's  something  quite  outside  business — quite 
outside  business  altogether." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Laverick,  "  I  will  promise  what 
you  have  asked,  then.  Listen  —  here  is  your  sister  back 
again,"  he  added,  as  he  heard  the  taxicab  stop  outside. 
"Pull  yourself  together  and  don't  frighten  her  so  much. 
I  am  going  down  to  meet  her.  I  shall  tell  her  that  you  are 
better.  Try  and  buck  up  when  she  comes  in  to  see  you." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  Morrison  said  humbly.  "If  you 
knew  !  If  you  only  knew !" 

He  began  to  sob  again.  Laverick  left  the  room  and, 
descending  the  stairs,  met  the  girl  in  the  hall.  Her  white 
face  questioned  him  before  her  lips  had  time  to  frame  the 
speech. 

"  Your  brother  is  very  much  better,"  Laverick  said.  "  I 
am  sure  that  you  need  not  be  anxious  about  him." 

"I  am  so  glad,"  she  murmured.  "They  let  me  off  but 
I  had  to  pay  a  fine.  I  had  no  idea  before  that  I  was  so 
Important.  Shall  I  go  to  him  now?" 

"One  moment,"  Laverick  answered,  holding  open  the 
door  of  the  sitting-room.  "  Miss  Morrison,"  he  went  on,  - 


120  HAVOC 

"Miss  Leneveu  is  my  name,"  she  interrupted. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Your  brother  evidently  has  some- 
thing on  his  mind  apart  from  business.  I  am  afraid  that 
he  has  been  getting  into  some  sort  of  trouble.  I  don't 
think  there  is  any  object  in  bothering  him  about  it,  but 
the  great  thing  is  to  get  him  away." 

"You  will  help?"  she  begged. 

"I  will  help,  certainly,"  Laverick  answered.  "I  have 
promised  to.  You  must  see  that  he  is  ready  to  leave  here 
at  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  He  wants  to  go  to 
New  York,  and  the  special  to  catch  the  German  boat  will 
leave  Waterloo  somewhere  about  eight  to  eight-thirty." 

"But  his  clothes!"  she  cried.  "How  can  he  be  ready 
by  then?" 

"Your  brother  does  not  wish  me  or  any  one  to  go  near 
his  rooms  or  to  send  him  any  of  his  belongings,"  Laverick 
continued  quietly. 

"But  how  strange!"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say,  then,  that  he  is  going  without  anything?" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  Laverick  said  kindly,  "  that  we  must 
take  it  for  granted  that  your  brother  has  got  mixed  up  in 
some  undesirable  business  or  other.  He  is  nervously 
anxious  to  keep  his  whereabouts  an  entire  secret.  He  has 
been  asking  me  whether  any  one  has  been  to  the  office 
to  inquire  for  him.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  think  the 
best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  humor  him.  I  shall  buy  him 
before  to-morrow  morning  a  cheap  dressing-case  and  a 
ready-made  suit  of  clothes,  and  a  few  things  for  the  voyage. 
Then  I  shall  send  a  cab  for  you  both  at  seven  o'clock  and 
meet  you  at  the  station. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  murmured.  "What  should  I 
have  done  without  you?  Oh,  I  cannot  think!" 

The  protective  instinct  in  the  man  was  suddenly  strong. 


LAVERICK'S    PARTNER    FLEES      121 

Naturally  unaffectionate,  he  was  conscious  of  an  almost 
overmastering  desire  to  take  her  hands  in  his,  even  to 
lift  her  up  and  kiss  away  the  tears  which  shone  in  her 
deep,  childlike  eyes.  He  reminded  himself  that  she  was 
a  stranger,  that  her  appearance  of  youth  was  a  delusion, 
that  she  could  only  construe  such  an  action  as  a  liberty, 
an  impertinence,  offered  under  circumstances  for  which 
there  could  be  no  possible  excuse. 

He  moved  away  towards  the  door. 

"  Naturally,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  be  of  use  to  your 
brother.  You  see,"  he  explained,  a  little  awkwardly, 
"after  all,  we  have  been  partners  in  business." 

He  caught  a  look  upon  her  face  and  smiled. 

"Naturally,  too,"  he  continued,  "it  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  for  me  to  do  anything  to  relieve  your  anxiety." 

She  gave  him  her  hands  then  of  her  own  accord.  The 
gratitude  which  shone  out  of  her  swimming  eyes  seemed 
mingled  with  something  which  was  almost  invitation. 
Laverick  was  suddenly  swept  off  his  feet.  Something  had 

•/  J.  D 

come  into  his  life  —  something  absurd,  uncounted  upon, 
incomprehensible.  The  atmosphere  of  the  room  seemed 
electrified.  In  a  moment,  he  had  done  what  only  a  second 
or  two  before  he  had  told  himself  would  be  the  action  of  a 
cad.  He  had  taken  her,  unresisting,  up  into  his  arms, 
kissed  her  eyes  and  lips.  Afterwards,  he  was  never  able 
to  remember  those  few  moments  clearly,  only  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  had  accepted  his  caress  almost  without 
hesitation,  with  the  effortless  serenity  of  a  child  receiving 
a  natural  consolation  in  a  time  of  trouble.  But  Laverick 
was  conscious  of  other  feelings  as  he  leaned  hard  back  in 
the  corner  of  his  taxicab  and  was  driven  swiftly  away. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    WAITER    AT    THE    "  BLACK    POST  " 

LAVERICK,  notwithstanding  that  the  hour  was  becoming 
late,  found  an  outfitter's  shop  in  the  Strand  still  open, 
and  made  such  purchases  as  he  could  on  Morrison's  be- 
half. Then,  with  the  bag  ready  packed,  he  returned  to 
his  rooms.  Time  had  passed  quickly  during  the  last  three 
hours.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  stepped  out 
of  the  lift  and  opened  the  door  of  his  small  suite  of  rooms 
with  the  latchkey  which  hung  from  his  chain.  He  began 
to  change  his  clothes  mechanically,  and  he  had  nearly 
finished  when  the  telephone  bell  upon  his  table  rang. 

"Who's  that?"   he  asked,  taking  up  the  receiver. 

"  Hall-porter,  sir,"  was  the  answer.  "  Person  here  wishes 
to  see  you  particularly." 

"A  person  !"  Laverick  repeated.     "Man  or  woman?  " 

"Man,  sir." 

"Better  send  him  up,"  Laverick  ordered. 

"He's  a  seedy-looking  lot,  sir,"  the  porter  explained. 
"I  told  him  that  I  scarcely  thought  you'd  see  him." 

"Never  mind,"  Laverick  answered.  "I  can  soon  get 
rid  of  the  fellow  if  he's  cadging." 

He  went  back  to  his  room  and  finished  fastening  his 
tie.  His  own  affairs  had  sunk  a  little  into  the  background 
lately,  but  the  announcement  of  this  unusual  visitor  brought 
them  back  into  his  mind  with  a  rush.  Notwithstanding 
his  iron  nerves,  his  fingers  shook  as  he  drew  on  his  dinner- 
jacket  and  walked  out  to  the  passageway  to  answer  the 


WAITER    AT    THE    "  BLACK    POST"     123 

bell  which  rang  a  few  seconds  later.  A  man  stood  outside, 
dressed  in  shabby  black  clothes,  whose  face  somehow 
was  familiar  to  him,  although  he  could  not,  for  the  moment, 
place  it. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  me?"   Laverick  asked. 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  Laverick,"  the  man  replied,  "if 
you  could  spare  me  just  a  moment." 

"You  had  better  come  inside,  then,"  Laverick  said, 
closing  the  door  and  preceding  the  way  into  the  sitting- 
room.  At  any  rate,  there  was  nothing  threatening  about 
the  appearance  of  this  visitor  —  nor  anything  official. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  coming,  sir,"  the  man 
announced,  "to  ask  you  if  you  can  tell  me  where  I  can 
find  Mr.  Arthur  Morrison." 

Laverick's  face  showed  no  sign  of  his  relief.  What  he 
felt  he  succeeded  in  keeping  to  himself. 

"You  mean  Morrison — my  partner,  I  suppose?"  he 
answered. 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  the  man  admitted.  "I  wanted  a 
word  or  two  with  him  most  particular.  I  found  out  his 
address  from  the  caretaker  of  your  office,  but  he  don't 
seem  to  have  been  home  to  his  rooms  at  all  last  night, 
and  they  know  nothing  about  him  there." 

"  Your  face  seems  familiar  to  me,"  Laverick  remarked. 
"  Where  do  you  come  from  ? " 

The  man  hesitated. 

"  I  am  the  waiter,  sir,  at  the  '  Black  Post,'  —  little  bar 
and  restaurant,  you  know,"  he  added,  "just  behind  your 
offices,  sir,  at  the  end  of  Crooked  Friars' Alley.  You've 
been  in  once  or  twice,  Mr.  Laverick,  I  think.  Mr.  Mor- 
rison 's  a  regular  customer.  He  comes  in  for  a  drink  most 
mornings." 

Laverick  nodded. 


i24  HAVOC 

"  I  knew  I  'd  seen  your  face  somewhere,"  he  said.  "  What 
do  you  want  with  Mr.  Morrison?" 

The  man  was  silent.  He  twirled  his  hat  and  looked 
embarrassed. 

"  It 's  a  matter  I  should  n't  like  to  mention  to  any  one 
except  Mr.  Morrison  himself,  sir,"  he  declared  finally. 
"If  you  could  put  me  in  the  way  of  seeing  him,  I'd  be 
glad.  I  may  say  that  it  would  be  to  his  advantage,  too." 

Laverick  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"As  it  happens,  that's  a  little  difficult,"  he  explained. 
"Mr.  Morrison  and  I  disagreed  on  a  matter  of  business 
last  night.  I  undertook  certain  responsibilities  which  he 
should  have  shared,  and  he  arranged  to  leave  the  firm 
and  the  country  at  once.  We  parted  —  well,  not  exactly 
the  best  of  friends.  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  give  you  any 
information." 

"You  haven't  seen  him  since  then,  sir?"  the  man 
asked. 

Laverick  lied  promptly  but  he  lied  badly.  His  visitor 
was  not  in  the  least  convinced. 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  n't  made  myself  quite  plain,  sir," 
he  said.  "It's  to  do  him  a  bit  o'  good  that  I'm  here. 
I'm  not  wishing  him  any  harm  at  all.  On  the  contrary, 
it's  a  great  deal  more  to  his  advantage  to  see  me  than  it 
will  be  mine  to  find  him." 

"I  think,"  Laverick  suggested,  "that  you  had  better  be 
frank  with  me.  Supposing  I  knew  where  to  catch  Morri- 
son before  he  left  the  country,  I  could  easily  deal  with 
you  on  his  behalf." 

The  man  looked  doubtful. 

"You  see,  sir,"  he  replied  awkwardly,  "it's  a  matter  I 
would  n't  like  to  breathe  a  word  about  to  any  one  but 
Mr.  Morrison  himself.  It's  — it's  a  bit  serious." 


WAITER    AT    THE    "BLACK    POST'      125 

The  man's  face  gave  weight  to  his  words.  Curiously 
enough,  the  gleam  of  terror  which  Laverick  caught  in  his 
white  face  reminded  him  of  a  similar  look  which  he  had 
seen  in  Morrison's  eyes  barely  an  hour  ago.  To  gain 
time,  Laverick  moved  across  the  room,  took  a  cigarette 
from  a  box  and  lit  it.  A  conviction  was  forming  itself  in 
his  mind.  There  was  something  definite  behind  these 
hysterical  paroxysms  of  his  late  partner,  something  of 
which  this  man  had  an  inkling. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  throwing  himself  into  an  easy- 
chair,  "  I  think  you  had  better  be  frank  with  me.  I  must 
know  more  than  I  know  at  present  before  I  help  you  to 
find  Morrison,  even  if  he  is  to  be  found.  We  did  n't  part 
very  good  friends,  but  I'm  his  friend  enough — for  the 
sake  of  others,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
"  to  do  all  that  I  could  to  help  him  out  of  any  difficulty  he 
may  have  stumbled  into.  So  you  see  that  so  far  as  anything 
you  may  have  to  say  to  him  is  concerned,  I  think  you 
might  as  well  say  it  to  me." 

"  You  could  n't  see  your  way,  then,  sir,"  the  man  con- 
tinued doggedly,  "to  tell  me  where  I  could  find  Mr. 
Morrison  himself?" 

"No,  I  could  n't,"  Laverick  decided.  "Even  if  I  knew 
exactly  where  he  was  —  and  I  'm  not  admitting  that  —  I 
could  n't  put  you  in  touch  with  him  unless  I  knew  what 
your  business  was." 

The  man's  eyes  gleamed.     He  was  a  typical  waiter  — 
pasty-faced,    unwholesome-looking  —  but    he    had    small 
eyes  of  a  greenish  cast,  and  they  were  expressive. 

"I  think,  sir,"  he  said,  "you've  some  idea  yourself, 
then,  that  Mr.  Morrison  has  been  getting  into  a  bit  of 
trouble." 

"We  won't  discuss  that,"  Laverick  answered.     "You 


126  HAVOC 

must  either  go  away  —  it's  past  nine  o'clock  and  I  have  n't 
had  my  dinner  yet  —  or  you  must  treat  me  as  you  would 
Mr.  Morrison." 

The  man  looked  upon  the  carpet  for  several  moments. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  he  said,  "there's  no  great  reason  why 
I  should  put  myself  out  about  this  at  all.  The  only  thing 
is  —  " 

He  hesitated. 

"Well,  go  on,"  Laverick  said  encouragingly. 

"  I  think,"  the  man  continued,  "  that  Mr.  Morrison  — 
knowing,  as  I  w~ll  do,  sir,  the  sort  of  gent  he  is  —  would 
be  more  likely  o  talk  common  sense  with  me  about  this 
matter  than  you,  sir." 

"  I  '11  imagine  I  'm  Morrison,  for  the  moment,"  Laverick 
said  smiling,  "especially  as  I'm  acting  for  him." 

The  man  looked  around  the  room.  The  door  behind 
had  been  left  ajar.  He  stepped  backward  and  closed  it. 

"  You  '11  pardon  the  liberty,  sir,"  he  said,  "  but  this  is  a 
serious  matter  I'm  going  to  speak  about.  I'll  just  tell 
you  a  little  thing  and  you  can  form  your  own  conclusions. 
Last  night  we  was  open  late  at  the  'Black  Post.'  We 
keep  open,  sir,  as  you  know,  when  you  gentlemen  at  the 
Stock  Exchange  are  busy.  About  nine  o'clock  there  was 
a  strange  customer  came  in.  He  had  two  drinks  and  he 
sat  as  though  he  were  waiting.  In  about  arf-an-hour 
another  gent  came  in,  and  they  went  into  a  corner  together 
and  seemed  to  be  doing  some  sort  of  business.  Anyways, 
there  was  papers  passed  between  them.  I  was  fairly  busy 
about  then,  as  there  were  one  or  two  more  customers  in 
the  place,  but  I  noticed  these  two  talking  together,  and  I 
noticed  the  dark  gentleman  leave.  The  others  went  out 
a  few  minutes  afterwards,  and  the  gent  who  had  come 
first  was  alone  in  the  place.  He  sat  in  the  corner  and  he 


WAITER    AT    THE    ''BLACK    POST"     127 

had  a  pocket-book  on  the  table  before  him.  I  had  a  sort 
of  casual  glance  at  it  when  I  brought  him  a  drink,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  it  was  full  of  bank-notes.  He  sat  there 
just  like  a  man  extra  deep  in  thought.  Just  after  eleven, 
in  came  Mr.  Morrison.  I  could  see  he  was  rare  and  put 
out,  for  he  was  white,  and  shaking  all  over.  '  Give  me  a 
drink,  Jim,'  he  said, — 'a  big  brandy  and  soda,  big  as 
you  make  'em.'" 

The  man  paused  for  a  moment  as  though  to  collect  him- 
self. Laverick  was  suddenly  conscious  of  a  strange  thrill 
creeping  through  his  pulses. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said.    "  That  was  after  he  left  me.    Go  on." 

"He  was  quite  close  to  the  other  gent,  Mr.  Morrison 
was,"  the  waiter  continued,  "  but  they  did  n't  say  nowt 
to  each  other.  All  of  a  sudden  I  see  Mr.  Morrison  set  down 
his  glass  and  stare  at  the  other  chap  as  though  he'd  seen 
something  that  had  given  him  a  turn.  I  leaned  over  the 
counter  and  had  a  look,  too.  There  he  sat  —  this  tall, 
fair  chap  who  had  been  in  the  place  so  long  —  with  his 
big  pocket-book  on  the  table  in  front  of  him,  and  even 
from  where  I  was  I  could  see  that  there  was  a  great  pile 
of  bank-notes  sticking  out  from  it.  All  of  a  sudden  he 
looks  up  and  sees  Mr.  Morrison  a-watching  him  and  me 
from  behind  the  counter.  Back  he  whisks  the  pocket- 
book  into  his  pocket,  calls  me  for  my  bill,  gives  me  two 
mouldv  pennies  for  a  tip,  buttons  up  his  coat  and  walks 
out." 

"You  know  who  he  was ?"   Laverick  inquired. 

Again  the  waiter  paused  for  a  moment  before  he 
answered  —  paused  and  looked  nervously  around  the 
room.  His  voice  shook. 

"He  was  the  man  as  was  murdered  about  a  hundred 
yards  off  the  'Black  Post'  last  night,  sir,"  he  said. 


128  HAVOC 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  Laverick  asked. 

"I  got  an  hour  off  to-day,"  the  waiter  continued,  "and 
went  down  to  the  Mortuary.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
it.  There  he  was  —  same  chap,  same  clothes.  I  could 
swear  to  him  anywhere,  and  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  at  the 
inquest." 

Laverick's  cigarette  burned  away  between  his  fingers. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  no  longer  in  the  room.  He 
was  listening  to  Big  Ben  striking  the  hour,  he  was  back 
again  in  that  tiny  little  bedroom  with  its  spotless  sheets 
and  lace  curtains.  The  man  on  the  bed  was  looking  at 
him.  Laverick  remembered  the  look  and  shivered. 

"What  has  this  to  do  with  Morrison?"  he  demanded. 

Once  more  the  waiter  looked  around  in  that  half  mys- 
terious, half  terrified  way. 

"Mr.  Morrison,  sir,"  he  said,  dropping  his  voice  to  a 
hoarse  whisper,  "he  followed  the  other  chap  out  within 
thirty  seconds.  A  sort  of  queer  look  he'd  got  in  his  face 
too,  and  he  went  out  without  paying  me.  I've  read  the 
papers  pretty  careful,  sir,"  the  man  went  on,  "but  I  ain't 
seen  no  word  of  that  pocket-book  of  bank-notes  being 
found  on  the  man  as  was  murdered." 

Laverick  threw  the  end  of  his  burning  cigarette  away. 
He  walked  to  the  window,  keeping  his  back  deliberately 
turned  on  his  visitor.  His  eyes  followed  the  glittering  arc 
of  lights  which  fringed  the  Thames  Embankment,  were 
caught  by  the  flaring  sky-sign  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river.  He  felt  his  heart  beating  with  unaccustomed  vigor. 
Was  this,  then,  the  secret  of  Morrison's  terror  ?  He  won- 
dered no  longer  at  his  collapse.  The  terror  was  upon  him, 
too.  He  felt  his  forehead,  and  his  hand,  when  he  drew 
it  away,  was  wet.  It  was  not  Morrison  alone  but  he  him- 
self who  might  be  implicated  in  this  man's  knowledge. 


WAITER    AT    THE    "BLACK    POST"     129 

The  thoughts  flitted  through  his  brain  like  parts  of  a  night- 
mare. He  saw  Morrison  arrested,  he  saw  the  whole  story 
of  the  missing  pocket-book  in  the  papers,  he  imagined  his 
bank  manager  reading  it  and  thinking  of  that  parcel  of 
mysterious  bank-notes  deposited  in  his  keeping  on  the 
morning  after  the  tragedy.  .  .  .  Laverick  was  a  strong 
man,  and  his  moment  of  weakness,  poignant  though  it 
had  been,  passed.  This  was  no  new  thing  with  which  he 
was  confronted.  All  the  time  he  had  known  that  the 
probabilities  were  in  favor  of  such  a  discovery.  He  set  his 
teeth  and  turned  to  face  his  visitor. 

"This  is  a  very  serious  thing  which  you  have  told  me," 
he  said.  "  Have  you  spoken  about  it  to  any  one  else  ?" 

"  Not  a  soul,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "  I  thought  it  best 
to  have  a  word  or  two  first  with  Mr.  Morrison." 

"  You  were  thinking  of  attending  the  inquest,"  Laverick 
said  thoughtfully.  "The  police  would  thank  you  for 
your  evidence,  and  there,  I  suppose,  the  matter  would 
end" 

"  You  Ve  hit  it  precisely,  sir,"  the  man  admitted.  "  There 
the  matter  would  end." 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  Laverick  continued,  speaking  as 
though  he  were  reasoning  this  matter  out  to  himself, 
"  supposing  you  decided  not  to  meddle  in  an  affair  which 
does  not  concern  you,  supposing  you  were  not  sure  as  to 
the  identity  of  your  customer  last  night,  and  being  a  little 
tired  you  could  not  rightly  remember  whether  Mr.  Morri- 
son called  in  for  a  drink  or  not,  and  so,  to  cut  the  matter 
short,  you  dismissed  the  whole  matter  from  your  mind 
and  let  the  inquest  take  its  own  course,  - 

Laverick  paused.  His  visitor  scratched  the  side  of  his 
chin  and  nodded. 

"You've  put  this  matter  plainly,  sir,"  he  said,  "in  what 


i3o  HAVOC 

I  call  an  understandable,  straightforward  way.  I'm  a 
poor  man  —  I've  been  a  poor  man  all  my  life  —  and  I've 
never  seed  a  chance  before  of  getting  away  from  it.  I  see 
one  now." 

"You  want  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  yourself?" 

"So  'elp  me  God,  sir,  I  do !"  the  man  agreed. 

Laverick  nodded. 

"You  have  done  a  remarkably  wise  thing,"  he  said, 
"in  coming  to  me  and  in  telling  me  about  this  affair. 
The  idea  of  connecting  Mr.  Morrison  with  the  murder 
would,  of  course,  be  ridiculous,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  would  be  very  disagreeable  to  him  to  have  his  name 
mentioned  in  connection  with  it.  You  have  behaved 
discreetly,  and  you  have  done  Mr.  Morrison  a  service  in 
trying  to  find  him  out.  You  will  do  him  a  further  service 
by  adopting  the  second  course  I  suggested  with  regard  to 
the  inquest.  What  do  you  consider  that  service  is  worth  ?" 

"  It  depends,  sir,"  the  man  answered  quietly,  "  at  what 
price  Mr.  Morrison  values  his  life ! " 


CHAPTER   XVH 

THE    PRICE    OF    SILENCE 

THE  man's  manner  was  expressive.  Laverick  repeated 
his  phrase,  frowning. 

"His  life!" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

Laverick  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Come,"  he  declared,  "you  must  not  go  too  far  with 
this  thing.  I  have  admitted,  so  as  to  clear  the  way  for 
anything  you  have  to  say,  that  Mr.  Morrison  would  not 
care  to  have  his  name  mentioned  in  connection  with  tKis 
affair.  But  because  he  left  your  bar  a  few  minutes  after 
the  murdered  man,  it  is  sheer  folly  to  assume  that  there- 
fore he  is  necessarily  implicated  in  his  death.  I  cannot 
conceive  anything  more  unlikely." 

The  man  smiled  —  a  slow,  uncomfortable  smile  which 
suggested  mirth  less  than  anything  in  the  world. 

"There  are  a  few  other  things,  sir,"  he  remarked, — 
"one  in  especial." 

"Well  ?"  Laverick  inquired.  "Let's  have  it.  You  had 
better  tell  me  everything  that  is  in  your  mind." 

"  The  man  was  stabbed  with  a  horn-handled  knife." 

"I  remember  reading  that,"  Laverick  admitted. 
"Well?" 

"The  knife  was  mine,"  his  visitor  affirmed,  dropping 
his  voice  once  more  to  a  whisper.  "It  lay  on  the  edge 
of  the  counter,  close  to  where  Mr.  Morrison  was  leaning, 
and  as  soon  as  he'd  gone  I  missed  it." 

Laverick  was  silent.    What  was  there  to  be  said  ? 


i32  HAVOC 

"Horn-handled  knives,"  he  muttered,  "are  not  un- 
common things." 

"One  don't  possess  a  knife  for  a  matter  of  eight  or 
nine  years  without  being  able  to  swear  to  it,"  the  other 
remarked  dryly. 

"Is  there  anything  more?" 

"There  don't  need  to  be,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "You 
know  that,  sir.  So  do  I.  There  don't  need  to  be  any 
more  evidence  than  mine  to  send  Mr.  Morrison  to  the 
gallows." 

"  We  will  waive  that  point,"  Laverick  declared.  "  The 
jury  sometimes  are  very  hard  to  convince  by  circum- 
stantial evidence  alone.  However,  as  I  have  said,  let  us 
waive  that  point.  Your  position  is  clear  enough.  You 
go  to  the  inquest,  you  tell  all  you  know,  and  you  get 
nothing.  You  are  a  poor  man,  you  have  worked  hard 
all  your  life.  The  chance  has  come  in  your  way  to  do 
yourself  a  little  good.  Now  take  my  advice.  Don't 
spoil  it  all  by  asking  for  anything  ridiculous.  It  won't 
do  for  you  to  come  into  a  fortune  a  few  days  after  this 
affair,  especially  if  it  ever  comes  out  that  the  murdered 
man  was  in  your  place.  I  am  here  to  act  for  Mr.  Morri- 
son. What  is  it  that  you  want?" 

"  You  are  talking  like  a  gent,  sir,"  the  man  said,  —  "  like 
a  sensible  gent,  too.  I'd  have  to  keep  it  quiet,  of  course, 
that  I  'd  come  into  a  bit  of  money,  —  just  at  present,  at 
any  rate.  I  could  easy  find  an  excuse  for  changing  my 
job  —  perhaps  get  away  from  London  altogether.  I  Ve 
got  a  few  pounds  saved  and  I've  always  wanted  to  open 
a  banking  account.  A  gent  like  you,  perhaps,  could  put 
me  in  the  way  of  doing  it." 

"How  much  do  you  consider  would  be  a  satisfactory 
balance  to  commence  with?"  Laverick  asked. 


THE    PRICE    OF    SILENCE  133 

"  I  was  thinking  of  a  thousand  pounds,  sir." 

Laverick  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments. 

"  By  the  way,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  he  inquired  at  last. 

"James  Shepherd,  sir,"  the  man  answered, — "gen- 
erally called  Jim,  sir." 

"Well,  you  see,  Shepherd,"  Laverick  continued,  "the 
difficulty  is,  in  your  case,  as  in  all  similar  ones,  that  one 
never  knows  where  the  thing  will  end.  A  thousand 
pounds  is  a  considerable  sum,  but  in  four  amounts,  with 
three  months  interval  between  each,  it  could  be  arranged. 
This  would  be  better  for  you,  in  any  case.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  is  not  an  unheard-of  sum  for  you  to 
have  saved  or  got  together.  After  that  your  investments 
would  be  my  lookout,  and  they  would  produce,  as  I  have 
said,  another  seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  But  what 
security  have  I  —  has  Mr.  Morrison,  let  us  say  —  that 
you  will  be  content  with  this  sum?" 

"  He  has  n't  any,  sir,"  the  man  admitted  at  once.  "  He 
could  n't  have  any.  I'm  a  modest-living  man,  and  I've 
no  desire  to  go  shouting  around  that  I'm  independent 
all  of  a  sudden.  That  would  n't  do  nohow.  A  thousand 
pounds  would  bring  me  in  near  enough  a  pound  a  week 
if  I  invested  it,  or  two  pounds  a  week  for  an  annuity,  my 
health  being  none  too  good.  I've  no  wife  or  children,  sir. 
I  was  thinking  of  an  annuity.  With  two  pounds  a  week 
I'd  have  no  cause  to  trouble  any  one  again." 

Laverick  considered. 

"It  shall  be  done,"  he  said.  "To-morrow  I  shall  buy 
shares  for  you  to  the  extent  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds.  They  will  be  deposited  in  a  bank.  Some  day 
you  can  look  in  and  see  me,  and  I  will  take  you  round 
there.  You  are  my  client  who  has  speculated  under  my 
instructions  successfully,  and  you  will  sign  your  name 


134  HAVOC 

and  become  a  customer.  After  that,  you  will  speculate 
again.  When  your  thousand  pounds  has  been  made,  I 
will  show  you  how  to  buy  an  annuity.  Keep  your  mouth 
shut,  and  last  night  will  be  the  luckiest  night  of  your  life. 
Do  you  drink?" 

"  A  drop  or  two,  sir,"  the  man  admitted.  "  If  I  did  n't, 
I  guess  I'd  go  off  my  chump." 

"Do  you  talk  when  you're  drunk?"  Laverick  asked. 

"Never,  sir,"  the  man  declared.  "I've  a  way  of  get- 
ting a  drop  too  much  when  I'm  by  myself.  Then  I 
tumbles  off  to  sleep  and  that's  the  end  of  it.  I've  no 
fancy  for  company  at  such  times." 

"It's  a  good  thing,"  Laverick  remarked,  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket.  "Here's  a  five-pound  note  on  ac- 
count. I  daresay  you  can  manage  to  keep  sober  to-night, 
at  any  rate.  That's  all,  is  n't  it?" 

"That's  all,  sir,"  the  man  answered,  "unless  I  might 
make  so  bold  as  to  ask  whether  Mr.  Morrison  has  really 
hooked  it?" 

"  Mr.  Morrison  had  decided  to  hook  it,  as  you  graphi- 
cally say,  before  he  came  in  for  that  drink  to  your  bar, 
Shepherd,"  Laverick  affirmed.  "Business  had  been 
none  too  good  with  us,  and  we  had  had  a  disagreement." 

The  man  nodded. 

"  I  see,  sir,"  he  said,  taking  up  his  hat.  "  Good  night, 
sir!" 

"Good  night!"  Laverick  answered.  "You  can  find 
your  way  down  ?  " 

"Quite  well,  sir,  and  thank  you,"  declared  Mr.  Shep- 
herd, closing  the  door  softly  behind  him. 

Laverick  sat  down  in  his  chair.  He  had  forgotten  that 
he  was  hungry.  He  was  faced  now  with  a  new  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    LONELY    CHORUS    GIBL 

THEY  stood  together  upon  the  platform  watching  the  re- 
ceding train.  The  girl's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  but 
Laverick  was  conscious  of  a  sense  of  immense  relief. 
Morrison  had  been  at  the  station  some  time  before  the 
train  was  due  to  leave,  and,  although  a  physical  wreck, 
he  seemed  only  too  anxious  to  depart.  He  had  all  the 
appearance  of  a  broken-spirited  man.  He  looked  about 
him  on  the  platform,  and  even  from  the  carriage,  in  the 
furtive  way  of  a  criminal  expecting  apprehension  at  any 
moment.  The  whistle  of  the  train  had  been  a  relief  as 
great  to  him  as  to  Laverick. 

"We'll  write  you  to  New  York,  care  of  Barclays," 
Laverick  called  out.  "  Good  luck,  Morrison  !  Pull  your- 
self together  and  make  a  fresh  start." 

Morrison's  only  reply  was  a  somewhat  feeble  nod. 
Laverick  had  not  attempted  to  shake  hands.  He  felt 
himself,  at  the  last  moment,  stirred  almost  to  anger  by 
the  perfunctory  farewell  which  was  all  this  man  had 
offered  to  the  girl  he  had  treated  so  inconsiderately.  His 
thoughts  were  engrossed  upon  himself  and  his  own  danger. 
He  would  not  even  have  kissed  her  if  she  had  not  drawn 
his  face  down  to  hers  and  whispered  a  reassuring  little 
message.  Laverick  turned  away.  For  some  reason  or 
other  he  felt  himself  shuddering.  Conversation  during 
those  last  few  moments  had  been  increasingly  difficult. 
The  train  was  off  at  last,  however,  and  they  were  alone. 


i36  HAVOC 

The  girl  drew  a  long  breath,  which  might  very  well  have 
been  one  of  relief.  They  turned  silently  toward  the  exit. 

"Are  you  going  back  home?"  Laverick  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  listlessly.  "There  is  nothing  else 
to  do." 

"  Is  n't  it  rather  sad  for  you  there  by  yourself  ? " 

She  nodded. 

"It  is  the  first  time,"  she  said.  "Another  girl  and  her 
mother  have  lived  with  me  always.  They  started  off  last 
week,  touring.  They  are  paying  a  little  toward  the  house 
or  I  should  have  to  go  into  rooms.  As  it  is,  I  think  that 
it  would  be  more  comfortable." 

Laverick  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 

"You  seem  such  a  child,"  he  said,  "to  be  left  all  alone 
in  the  world  like  this." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  child  actually,  you  see,"  she  answered, 
with  an  effort  at  lightness.  "Somehow,  though,  I  do 
miss  Arthur's  going.  His  father  was  always  very  good 
to  me,  and  made  him  promise  that  he  would  do  what  he 
could.  I  did  n't  see  much  of  him,  but  one  felt  always 
that  there  was  somebody.  It's  different  now.  It  makes 
one  feel  very  lonely." 

"I,  too,"  Laverick  said,  with  commendable  mendacity, 
"  am  rather  a  lonely  person.  You  must  let  me  see  some- 
thing of  you  now  and  then." 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  Her  gaze  was  alto- 
gether disingenuous,  but  her  eyes  —  those  wonderful 
eyes  —  spoke  volumes. 

"If  you  really  mean  it,"  she  said,  "I  should  be  so 
glad." 

"  Supposing  we  start  to-day,"  he  suggested,  smiling. 
"  I  cannot  ask  you  to  lunch,  as  I  have  a  busy  day  before 
me,  but  we  might  have  dinner  together  quite  early.  Then 


THE    LONELY    CHORUS    GIRL        137 

I  would  take  you  to  the  theatre  and  meet  you  afterwards, 
if  you  liked." 

"If  I  liked!"  she  whispered.  "Oh,  how  good  you 
are!" 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  about  that.  Now  I  '11  put  you  in 
this  taxi  and  send  you  home." 

She  laughed. 

"  You  must  n't  do  anything  so  extravagant.  I  can  get 
a  'bus  just  outside.  I  never  have  taxicabs." 

"Just  this  morning,"  he  insisted,  "and  I  think  he 
won't  trouble  you  for  his  fare.  You  must  let  me,  please. 
Remember  that  there's  a  large  account  open  still  between 
your  half-brother  and  me,  so  you  need  n't  mind  these 
trifles.  Till  this  evening,  then.  Shall  I  fetch  you  or  will 
you  come  to  me?" 

"Let  me  fetch  you,  if  I  may,"  she  said.  "It  is  n't  nice 
for  you  to  come  down  to  where  I  live.  It 's  such  a  horrid 
part." 

"Just  as  you  like,"  he  answered.  "I'd  be  very  glad 
to  fetch  you  if  you  prefer  it,  but  it  would  give  me  more 
time  if  you  came.  Shall  we  say  seven  o'clock?  I've 
written  the  address  down  on  this  card  so  that  you  can 
make  no  mistake." 

She  laughed  gayly. 

"You  know,  all  the  time,"  she  said,  "I  feel  that  you 
are  treating  me  as  though  I  were  a  baby.  I'll  be  there 
punctually,  and  I  don't  think  I  need  tie  the  card  around 
my  neck." 

The  cab  glided  off.  Laverick  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
wan  little  face  with  a  faint  smile  quivering  at  the  corner 
of  her  lips  as  she  leaned  out  for  a  moment  to  say  good-bye. 
Then  he  went  back  to  his  rooms,  breakfasted,  and  made 
his  way  to  his  office. 


i38  HAVOC 

The  morning  papers  had  nothing  new  to  report  con- 
cerning the  murder  in  Crooked  Friars'  Alley.  Evidently 
what  information  the  police  had  obtained  they  were 
keeping  for  the  inquest.  Laverick,  from  the  moment 
when  he  entered  the  office,  had  little  or  no  time  to  think 
of  the  tragedy  under  whose  shadow  he  had  come.  The 
long-predicted  boom  had  arrived  at  last.  Without  lunch, 
he  and  all  his  clerks  worked  until  after  six  o'clock.  Even 
then  Laverick  found  it  hard  to  leave.  During  the  day, 
a  dozen  people  or  so  had  been  in  to  ask  for  Morrison. 
To  all  of  them  he  had  given  the  same  reply,  —  Morrison 
had  gone  abroad  on  private  business  for  the  firm.  Very 
few  were  deceived  by  Laverick's  dry  statement.  He  was 
quite  aware  that  he  was  looked  upon  either  as  one  of  the 
luckiest  men  on  earth,  or  as  a  financier  of  consummate 
skill.  The  failure  of  Laverick  &  Morrison  had  been 
looked  upon  as  a  certainty.  How  they  had  tided  over 
that  twenty-four  hours  had  been  known  to  no  one  —  to 
no  one  but  Laverick  himself  and  the  manager  of  his 
bank. 

Just  before  four  o'clock,  the  telephone  rang  at  his 
elbow. 

"Mr.  Fenwick  from  the  bank,  sir,  is  wishing  to  speak 
to  you  for  a  moment,"  his  head-clerk  announced. 

Laverick  took  up  the  telephone. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  am  Laverick.  Good  afternoon, 
Mr.  Fenwick !  Absolutely  impossible  to  spare  any  time 
to-day.  What  is  it?  The  account  is  all  right,  is  n't  it?" 

"Quite  right,  Mr.  Laverick,"  was  the  answer.  "At 
the  same  time,  if  you  could  spare  me  a  moment  I  should 
be  glad  to  see  you  concerning  the  deposit  you  made 
yesterday." 

"  I  will  come  in  to-morrow,"  Laverick  promised.    "  This 


THE    LONELY    CHORUS    GIRL       139 

afternoon  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  I  have  a  crowd 
of  people  waiting  to  see  me,  and  several  important  engage- 
ments for  which  I  am  late  already." 

The  banker  seemed  scarcely  satisfied. 

"  I  may  rely  upon  seeing  you  to-morrow  ?"  he  pressed. 

"To-morrow,"  Laverick  repeated,  ringing  off. 

For  a  time  this  last  message  troubled  him.  As  soon 
as  the  day's  work  was  over,  however,  and  he  stepped 
into  his  cab,  he  dismissed  it  entirely  from  his  thoughts. 
It  was  curious  how,  notwithstanding  this  new  seriousness 
which  had  come  into  his  life,  notwithstanding  that  sensa- 
tion of  walking  all  the  time  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  he 
set  his  face  homeward  and  looked  forward  to  his  evening, 
with  a  pleasure  which  he  had  not  felt  for  many  months. 
The  whirl  of  the  day  faded  easily  from  his  mind.  He 
lived  no  more  in  an  atmosphere  of  wild  excitement,  of 
changing  prices,  of  feverish  anxiet}'.  How  empty  his 
life  must  have  unconsciously  grown  that  he  could  find  so 
much  pleasure  in  being  kind  to  a  pretty  child !  It  was 
hard  to  think  of  her  otherwise  —  impossible.  A  strange 
heritage,  this,  to  have  been  left  him  by  such  a  person  as 
Arthur  Morrison.  How  in  the  world,  he  wondered,  did 
he  happen  to  have  such  a  connection. 

She  was  a  little  shy  when  she  arrived.  Laverick  had 
left  special  orders  downstairs,  and  she  was  brought  up 
into  his  sitting-room  immediately.  She  was  very  quietly 
dressed  except  for  her  hat,  which  was  large  and  wavy. 
He  found  it  becoming,  but  he  knew  enough  to  understand 
that  her  clothes  were  very  simple  and  very  inexpensive, 
and  he  was  conscious  of  being  curiously  glad  of  the  fact. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said  timidly,  with  a  glance  at  his 
evening  attire,  "that  we  must  go  somewhere  very  quiet. 
You  see,  I  have  only  one  evening  gown  and  I  could  n't 


i4o  HAVOC 

wear  that.  There  would  n't  be  time  to  change  after- 
wards. Besides,  one's  clothes  do  get  so  knocked  about 
in  the  dressing-rooms." 

"There  are  heaps  of  places  we  can  go  to,"  he  assured 
her  pleasantly.  "  Of  course  you  can't  dress  for  the  even- 
ing when  you  have  to  go  on  to  work,  but  you  must  re- 
member that  there  are  a  good  many  other  smart  young 
ladies  in  the  same  position.  I  had  to  change  because  I 
have  taken  a  stall  to  see  your  performance.  Tell  me, 
how  are  you  feeling  now?" 

"  Rather  lonely,"  she  admitted,  making  a  pathetic  little 
grimace.  "  That  is  to  say  I  have  been  feeling  lonely,"  she 
added  softly.  "I  don't  now,  of  course." 

"You  are  a  queer  little  person,"  he  said  kindly,  as 
they  went  down  in  the  lift.  "Have  n't  you  any  friends?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"What  sort  of  friends  could  I  have?"  she  asked. 
"The  girls  in  the  chorus  with  me  are  very  nice,  some  of 
them,  but  they  know  so  many  people  whom  I  don't, 
and  they  are  always  out  to  supper,  or  something  of  the 
sort." 

"And  you?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  went  to  one  supper-party  with  the  girl  who  is  near 
me,"  she  said.  "  I  liked  it  very  much,  but  they  did  n't  ask 
me  again." 

"I  wonder  why?"  he  remarked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ! "  she  went  on  drearily.  "  You 
see,  I  think  the  men  who  take  out  girls  who  are  in  the 
chorus,  generally  expect  to  be  allowed  to  make  love  to 
them.  At  any  rate,  they  behaved  like  that.  Such  a 
horrid  man  tried  to  say  nice  things  to  me  and  I  did  n't 
like  it  a  bit.  So  they  left  me  alone  afterwards.  The  girl 


THE    LONELY    CHORUS    GIRL       141 

I  lived  with  and  her  mother  are  quite  nice,  and  they  have 
a  few  friends  we  go  to  see  sometimes  on  Sunday  or  holi- 
days. It's  dull,  though,  very  dull,  especially  now  they're 
away." 

"What  on  earth  made  you  think  of  going  on  the  stage 
at  all  ?"  he  asked. 

"  What  could  one  do  ?  "  she  answered.  "  My  mother's 
money  died  with  her  —  she  had  only  an  annuity  —  and 
my  stepfather,  who  had  promised  to  look  after  me,  lost 
all  his  money  and  died  quite  suddenly.  Arthur  was  in 
a  stockbroker's  office  and  he  could  n't  save  anything. 
My  only  friend  was  my  old  music-master,  and  he  had 
given  up  teaching  and  was  director  of  the  orchestra  at 
the  Universal.  All  he  could  do  for  me  was  to  get  me  a 
place  in  the  chorus.  I  have  been  there  ever  since.  They 
keep  on  promising  me  a  little  part  but  I  never  get  it. 
It's  always  like  that  in  theatres.  You  have  to  be  a 
favorite  of  the  manager's,  for  some  reason  or  other,  or 
you  never  get  your  chance  unless  you  are  unusually 
lucky." 

"I  dou't  know  much  about  theatres,"  he  admitted. 
"I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  a  stupid  person.  When  I  can 
get  away  from  work  I  go  into  the  country  and  play  cricket 
or  ^olf,  or  anything  that's  going.  Wrhen  I  am  up  in  town, 
I  am  generally  content  with  looking  up  a  few  friends,  or 
playing  bridge  at  the  club.  I  never  have  been  a  theatre- 
goer." 

"I  wonder,"  she  asked,  as  they  seated  themselves  at 
a  small  round  table  in  the  restaurant  which  he  had  chosen, 
—  "I  wonder  why  every  now  and  then  you  look  so  serious." 

"I  didn't  know  that  I  did,"  he  answered.  "We've 
had  thundering  hard  times  lately  in  business,  though. 
I  suppose  that  makes  a  man  look  thoughtful." 


I42  HAVOC 

"Poor  Mr.  Laverick,"  she  murmured  softly.  "Are 
things  any  better  now?" 

"Much  better." 

"  Then  you  have  nothing  really  to  bother  you  ? "  she 
persisted. 

"  I  suppose  we  all  have  something,"  he  replied,  sud- 
denly grave.  "  Why  do  you  ask  that  ?  " 

She  leaned  across  the  table.  In  the  shaded  light,  her 
oval  face  with  its  little  halo  of  deep  brown  hair  seemed 
to  him  as  though  it  might  have  belonged  to  some  old 
miniature.  She  was  delightful,  like  Watteau-work  upon 
&.  piece  of  priceless  porcelain  —  delightful  when  the  lights 
played  in  her  eyes  and  the  smile  quivered  at  the  corner 
of  her  lips.  Just  now,  however,  she  became  very  much 
in  earnest. 

"I  will  tell  you  why  I  ask  that  question,"  she  said.  "I 
cannot  help  worrying  still  about  Arthur.  You  know  you 
admitted  last  night  that  he  had  done  something.  You 
saw  how  terribly  frightened  he  was  this  morning,  and  how 
he  kept  on  looking  around  as  though  he  were  afraid  that 
he  would  see  somebody  whom  he  wished  to  av-yid.  Oh ! 
I  don't  want  to  worry  you,"  she  went  on,  "but  I  feel  so 
terrified  sometimes.  I  feel  that  he  must  have  done  some- 
thing —  bad.  It  was  not  an  ordinary  business  trouble 
which  took  the  life  out  of  him  so  completely." 

"It  was  not,"  Laverick  admitted  at  once.  "He  has 
done  something,  I  believe,  quite  foolish;  but  the  matter 
is  in  my  hands  to  arrange,  and  I  think  you  can  assure 
yourself  that  nothing  will  come  of  it." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  so  this  morning  ?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"I  did  not,"  he  answered.  "I  told  him  nothing.  For 
many  reasons  it  was  better  to  keep  him  ignorant.  He 
and  I  might  not  have  seen  things  the  same  way,  and  I 


THE    LONELY    CHORUS    GIRL       143 

am  sure  that  what  I  am  doing  is  for  the  best.  If  I  were 
you,  Miss  Leneveu,  I  think  I  would  n't  worry  any  more. 
Soon  you  will  hear  from  your  brother  that  he  is  safe  in 
New  York,  and  I  think  I  can  promise  you  that  the  trouble 
will  never  come  to  anything  serious." 

"Why  have  you  been  so  kind  to  him?"  she  asked  tim- 
idly. "  From  what  he  said,  I  do  not  think  that  he  was  very 
useful  to  you,  and,  indeed,  you  and  he  are  so  different." 

Laverick  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"To  be  honest,"  he  said,  "I  think  that  I  should  not 
have  taken  so  much  trouble  for  his  sake  alone.  You 
see,"  he  continued,  smiling,  "you  are  rather  a  delightful 
young  person,  and  you  were  very  anxious,  were  n't  you  ?" 

Her  hand  came  across  the  table  —  an  impulsive  little 
gesture,  which  he  nevertheless  found  perfectly  natural  and 
delightfull.  He  took  it  into  his,  and  would  have  raised  the 
fingers  to  his  lips  but  for  the  waiters  who  were  hovering 
around. 

"You  are  so  kind,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  so  fortunate. 
I  think  that  I  wanted  a  friend." 

"You  poor  child,"  he  answered,  "I  should  think  you 
did.  You  are  not  drinking  your  wine." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Do  you  mind?"  she  asked.  "A  very  little  gets  into 
my  head  because  I  take  it  so  seldom,  and  the  manager  is 
cross  if  one  makes  the  least  bit  of  a  mistake.  Besides,  I 
do  not  think  that  I  like  to  drink  wine.  If  one  does  not 
take  it  at  all,  there  is  an  excuse  for  never  having  anything 
when  the  girls  ask  you." 

He  nodded  svmpathetically. 

"I  believe  you  are  quite  right,"  he  said;  "in  a  general 
way,  at  any  rate.  Well,  I  will  drink  by  myself  to  your 
brother's  safe  arrival  in  New  York.  Are  you  ready?" 


144  HAVOC 

She  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"I  must  be  there  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  she  told 
him. 

"I  will  drive  you  to  the  theatre,"  he  said,  "and  then 
go  round  and  fetch  my  ticket." 

As  he  waited  for  her  in  the  reception  hall  of  the  restau- 
rant, he  took  an  evening  paper  from  the  stall.  A  brief 
paragraph  at  once  attracted  his  attention. 

Murder  in  the  City.  —  We  understand  that  very 
important  information  has  come  into  the  hands  of 
the  police.  An  arrest  is  expected  to-night  or  to- 
morrow at  the  latest. 

He  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand  and  threw  it  on  one 
side.  It  was  the  usual  sort  of  thing.  There  was  nothing 
they  could  have  found  out  —  nothing,  he  told  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MYSTERIOUS    INQUIRIES 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  through  his  letters  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  Laverick,  in  response  to  a  second  and  more 
urgent  message,  went  round  to  his  bank.  Mr.  Fenwick 
greeted  him  gravely.  He  was  feeling  keenly  the  responsi- 
bilities of  his  position.  Just  how  much  to  say  and  how 
much  to  leave  unsaid  was  a  question  which  called  for  a 
full  measure  of  diplomacy. 

"You  understand,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  began,  "that  I 
wished  to  see  you  with  regard  to  the  arrangement  we 
came  to  the  day  before  yesterday." 

Laverick  nodded.    It  suited  him  to  remain  monosyllabic. 

"Well?"  he  asked. 

"The  arrangement,  of  course,  was  most  unusual,"  the 
manager  continued.  "I  agreed  to  it  as  you  were  an  old 
customer  and  the  matter  was  an  urgent  one." 

"  I  do  not  quite  follow  you,"  Laverick  remarked,  frown- 
ing. "What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do?  Withdraw  my 
account?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  the  manager  answered  hastily. 

"You  know  the  position  of  our  market,  of  course," 
Laverick  went  on.  "Three  days  ago  I  was  in  a  situation 
which  might  have  been  called  desperate.  I  could  quite 
understand  that  you  needed  security  to  go  on  making  the 
necessary  payments  on  my  behalf.  To-day,  things  are 
entirely  different.  I  am  twenty  thousand  pounds  better 
off,  and  if  necessary  I  could  realize  sufficient  to  pay  off 


i46  HAVOC 

the  whole  of  my  overdraft  within  half-an-hour.  That  I 
do  not  do  so  is  simply  a  matter  of  policy  and  prices." 

"I  quite  understand  that,  my  dear  Mr.  Laverick,"  the 
bank  manager  declared.  "The  position  is  simply  this. 
We  have  had  a  most  unusual  and  a  strictly  private  in- 
quiry, of  a  nature  which  I  cannot  divulge  to  you,  asking 
whether  any  large  sum  in  five  hundred  pound  bank- 
notes has  been  passed  through  our  account  during  the 
last  few  days." 

"You  have  actually  had  this  inquiry?"  Laverick 
asked  calmly. 

"  We  have.  I  can  tell  you  no  more.  The  source  of  the 
inquiry  was,  in  a  sense,  amazing." 

"May  I  ask  what  your  reply  was?" 

"My  reply  was,'  Mr.  Fenwick  said  slowly,  "that  no 
such  notes  had  passed  through  our  account.  We  asked 
them,  however,  without  giving  any  reasons,  to  repeat 
their  question  in  a  few  days'  time.  Our  reply  was  per- 
fectly truthful.  Owing  to  your  peculiar  stipulations,  we 
are  simply  holding  a  certain  packet  for  you  in  our  security 
chamber.  We  know  it  to  contain  bank-notes,  and  there 
is  very  little  doubt  but  that  it  contains  the  notes  which 
have  been  the  subject  of  this  inquiry.  I  want  to  ask  you, 
Mr.  Laverick,  to  be  so  good  as  to  open  that  packet,  let 
me  credit  the  notes  to  your  account  in  the  usual  way,  and 
leave  me  free  to  reply  as  I  ought  to  have  done  in  the  first 
instance  to  this  inquiry." 

"The  course  which  you  suggest,"  replied  the  other, 
"is  one  which  I  absolutely  decline  to  take.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  tell  you  the  nature  of  the  relations  which  should 
exist  between  a  banker  and  his  client.  All  that  I  can  say 
is  that  those  notes  are  deposited  with  you  and  must  re- 
main on  deposit,  and  that  the  transaction  is  one  which 


MYSTERIOUS    INQUIRIES  147 

must  be  treated  entirely  as  a  confidential  one.  If  you  de- 
cline to  do  this,  I  must  remove  my  account,  in  which 
case  I  shall,  of  course,  take  the  packet  away  with  me. 
To  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Fenwick,"  he  wound  up,  "I 
do  not  intend  to  make  use  of  those  notes,  I  never  intended 
to  do  so.  I  simply  deposited  them  as  security  until  the 
turn  in  price  of  'Unions'  came." 

"It  is  a  very  nice  point,  Mr.  Laverick,"  the  bank 
manager  remarked.  "I  should  consider  that  you  had 
already  made  use  of  them." 

"Every  one  to  his  own  conscience,"  Laverick  an- 
swered calmly. 

"You  place  me  in  a  very  embarrassing  position,  Mr. 
Laverick." 

" I  cannot  admit  that  at  all,"  Laverick  replied.  "There 
is  only  one  inquiry  which  you  could  have  had  which  could 
justify  you  in  insisting  upon  what  you  have  suggested. 
It  emanated,  I  presume,  from  Scotland  Yard?" 

"If  it  had,"  Mr.  Fenwick  answered,  "no  considera- 
tions of  etiquette  would  have  intervened  at  all.  I  should 
have  felt  it  my  duty  to  have  revealed  at  once  the  fact  of 
your  deposit.  At  the  same  time,  the  inquiry  comes  from 
an  even  more  important  source, —  a  source  which  cannot 
be  ignored." 

Laverick  thought  for  a  moment. 

"After  all,  the  matter  is  a  very  simple  one,"  he  de- 
clared. "By  four  o'clock  this  afternoon  my  account 
shall  be  within  its  limits.  You  will  then  automatically 
restore  to  me  the  packet  which  you  hold  on  my  behalf, 
and  the  possession  of  which  seems  to  embarrass 
you." 

"If  you  do  not  mind,"  the  banker  answered,  "I  should 
be  glad  if  you  would  take  it  with  you.  It  means,  I  think, 


i48  HAVOC 

a  matter  of  six  or  seven  thousand  pounds  added  to  your 
overdraft,  but  as  a  temporary  thing  we  will  pass  that." 

"As  you  will,"  Laverick  assented  carelessly.  "The 
charge  of  those  documents  is  a  trust  with  me  as  well  as 
with  yourself.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  can  arrange  for 
their  being  held  in  a  secure  place  elsewhere." 

The  usual  formalities  were  gone  through,  and  Laverick 
left  the  bank  with  the  brown  leather  pocket-book  in  his 
breast-coat  pocket.  Arrived  at  his  office,  he  locked  it  up 
at  once  in  his  private  safe  and  proceeded  with  the  usual 
business  of  the  day.  Even  with  an  added  staff  of  clerks, 
the  office  was  almost  in  an  uproar.  Laverick  threw  him- 
self into  the  struggle  with  a  whole-hearted  desire  to  escape 
from  these  unpleasant  memories.  He  succeeded  per- 
fectly. It  was  two  hours  before  he  was  able  to  sit  down 
even  for  a  moment.  His  head-clerk,  almost  as  exhausted, 
followed  him  into  his  room. 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you,  sir,"  he  announced,  "that  there's 
a  man  outside  —  Mr.  Shepherd  was  his  name,  I  believe  — 
said  he  had  a  small  investment  to  make  which  you  prom- 
ised to  look  after  personally.  He  would  insist  on  seeing 
you  —  said  he  was  a  waiter  at  a  restaurant  which  you 
visited  sometimes." 

"That's  all  right,"  Laverick  declared.  "You  can 
show  him  in.  We'll  probably  give  him  American 
rails." 

"Can't  we  attend  to  it  in  the  office  for  you,  sir?"  the 
clerk  asked.  "I  suppose  it's  only  a  matter  of  a  few 
hundreds." 

"Less  than  that,  probably,  but  I  promised  the  fellow 
I'd  look  after  it  myself.  Send  him  in,  Scropes." 

There  was  a  brief  delay  and  then  Mr.  Shepherd  was 
announced.  Laverick,  who  was  sitting  with  his  coat  off, 


MYSTERIOUS    INQUIRIES  149 

smoking  a  well-earned  cigarette,  looked  up  and  nodded 
to  his  visitor  as  the  door  was  closed. 

"Sorry  to  keep  you  waiting,"  he  remarked.  "We're 
having  a  bit  of  a  rush." 

The  man  laid  down  his  hat  and  came  up  to  Laverick's 
side. 

"I  guess  that,  sir,"  he  said,  "from  the  number  of  peo- 
ple we've  had  in  the  'Black  Post'  to-day,  and  the  way 
they've  all  been  shouting  and  talking.  They  don't  seem 
to  eat  much  these  days,  but  there's  some  of  them  can 
shift  the  drink." 

"I've  got  some  sound  stocks  looked  out  for  you," 
Laverick  remarked,  "two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds' 
worth.  If  you'll  just  approve  that  list  as  a  matter  of 
form,"  he  added,  pushing  a  piece  of  paper  across,  "you 
can  come  in  to-morrow  and  have  the  certificates.  I  shall 
tell  them  to  debit  the  purchase  money  to  my  private 
account,  so  that  if  any  one  asks  you  anything,  you  can  say 
that  you  paid  me  for  them." 

"I'm  sure  I'm  much  obliged,  sir,"  the  man  said.  "To 
tell  you  the  truth,"  he  went  on,  "I've  had  a  bit  of  a  scare 
to-day." 

Laverick  looked  up  quickly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded. 

"May  I  sit  down,  sir?  I'm  a  bit  worn  out.  I've  been 
on  the  go  since  half-past  ten." 

Laverick  nodded  and  pointed  to  a  chair.  Shepherd 
brought  it  up  to  the  side  of  the  table  and  leaned 
forward. 

"There's  been  two  men  in  to-day,"  he  said,  "asking 
questions.  They  wanted  to  know  how  many  customers 
I  had  there  on  Monday  night,  and  could  I  describe  them. 
Was  there  any  one  I  recognized,  and  so  on." 


ISO  HAVOC 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  I  declared  I  could  n't  remember  any  one.  To  the  best 
of  my  recollection,  I  told  them,  there  was  no  one  served 
at  all  after  ten  o'clock.  I  would  n't  say  for  certain  —  it 
looked  as  though  I  might  have  had  a  reason." 

"And  were  they  satisfied?" 

"I  don't  think  they  were,"  Shepherd  admitted.  "Not 
altogether,  that  is  to  say." 

"Did  they  mention  any  names?"    asked  Laverick  — 
"Morrison's,    for   instance?      Did    they   want    to    know 
whether  he  was  a  regular  customer?" 

"They  did  n't  mention  no  names  at  all,  sir,"  the  man 
answered,  "but  they  did  begin  to  ask  questions  about  my 
regular  clients.  Fortunate  like,  the  place  was  so  crowded 
that  I  had  every  excuse  for  not  paying  any  too  much 
attention  to  them.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  on  get- 
ting orders  attended  to." 

"  What  sort  of  men  were  they  ?"  Laverick  asked.  "  Do 
you  think  that  they  came  from  the  police?" 

"  I  should  n't  have  said  so,"  Shepherd  replied,  "  but 
one  can't  tell,  and  these  gentlemen  from  Scotland  Yard 
do  make  themselves  up  so  sometimes  on  purpose  to  de- 
ceive. I  should  have  said  that  these  two  were  foreigners, 
the  same  kidney  as  the  poor  chap  as  was  murdered.  I 
heard  a  word  or  two  pass,  and  I  sort  of  gathered  that  they'd 
a  shrewd  idea  as  to  that  meeting  in  the  'Black  Post'  be- 
tween the  man  who  was  murdered  and  the  little  dark 
fellow." 

Laverick  nodded. 

"Jim  Shepherd,"  he  declared,  "you  appear  to  me  to 
be  a  very  sagacious  person." 

"  I  'm  sure  I  'm  much  obliged,  sir ;  I  can  tell  you,  though," 
he  added,  "I  don't  half  like  these  chaps  coming  round 


MYSTERIOUS    INQUIRIES  151 

making  inquiries.  My  nerves  ain't  quite  what  they  were, 
and  it  gives  me  the  jumps." 

Laverick  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments. 

"After  all,  there  was  no  one  else  in  the  bar  that  night," 
he  remarked, —  "no  one  who  could  contradict  you?" 

"  Not  a  soul,"  Jim  Shepherd  agreed. 

"Then  don't  you  bother,"  Laverick  continued.  "You 
see,  you've  been  wise.  You  have  n't  given  yourself  away 
altogether.  You've  simply  said  that  you  don't  recollect 
any  one  coming  in.  Why  should  you  recollect?  At  the 
end  of  a  day's  work  you  are  not  likely  to  notice  every 
stray  customer.  Stick  to  it,  and,  if  you  take  my  advice, 
don't  go  throwing  any  money  about,  and  don't  give  your 
notice  in  for  another  week  or  so.  Pave  the  way  for  it  a 
bit.  Ask  the  governor  for  a  rise  —  say  you  're  not  making 
a  living  out  of  it." 

"I'm  on,"  Jim  Shepherd  remarked,  nodding  his  head. 
"I'm  on  to  it,  sir.  I  don't  want  to  get  into  no  trouble, 
I'm  sure." 

"You  can't,"  Laverick  answered  dryly,  "unless  you 
chuck  yourself  in.  You're  not  obliged  to  remember  any- 
thing. No  one  can  ever  prove  that  you  remembered 
anything.  Keep  your  eyes  open,  and  let  me  hear  if  these 
fellows  turn  up  again." 

"I'm  pretty  certain  they  will,  sir,"  the  man  declared. 
"They  sat  about  waiting  for  me  to  be  disengaged,  but 
when  my  time  off  came,  I  hopped  out  the  back  way. 
They'll  be  there  again  to-night,  sure  enough." 

Laverick  nodded. 

"Well,  you  must  let  me  know,"  he  said,  "what 
happens." 

Jim  Shepherd  leaned  across  the  corner  of  the  table  and 
dropped  his  voice. 


152  HAVOC 

"It's  an  awful  thing  to  think  of,  sir,"  he  whispered, 
blinking  rapidly.  "  I  would  n't  be  that  young  Mr.  Morri- 
son for  all  that  great  pocketful  of  notes.  But  my  !  there 
was  a  sight  of  money  there,  sir !  He  '11  be  a  rich  man  for 
all  his  days  if  nothing  comes  out." 

"We  won't  talk  any  more  about  it,"  Laverick  insisted. 
"  It  is  n't  a  pleasant  thing  to  think  about  or  talk  about. 
We  won't  know  anything,  Shepherd.  We  shall  be  better 
off." 

The  man  took  his  departure  and  the  whirl  of  business 
recommenced.  Laverick  turned  his  back  upon  the  city 
only  a  few  minutes  before  eight  and,  tired  out.  he  dined 
at  a  restaurant  on  his  homeward  way.  When  at  last  he 
reached  his  sitting-room  he  threw  himself  on  the  sofa 
and  lit  a  cigar.  Once  more  the  evening  papers  had  no 
particular  news.  This  time,  however,  one  of  them  had 
a  leading  article  upon  the  English  police  system.  The 
fact  that  an  undetected  murder  should  take  place  in  a 
wealthy  neighborhood,  away  from  the  slums,  a  murder 
which  must  have  been  premeditated,  was  in  itself  alarm- 
ing. Until  the  inquest  bad  been  held,  it  was  better  to 
make  little  comment  upon  the  iacts  of  the  case  so  far  as 
they  were  known.  At  the  same  time,  the  circumstance 
could  not  fail  to  incite  a  considerable  amount  of  alarm 
among  those  who  had  offices  in  the  vicinity  of  the  tragedy. 
It  was  rumored  that  some  mysterious  inquiries  were 
being  circulated  around  London  banks.  It  was  possible 
that  robbery,  after  all,  had  been  the  real  motive  of  the 
crime,  but  robbery  on  a  scale  as  yet  unimagined.  The 
whole  interest  of  the  case  now  was  centred  upon  the  dis- 
covery of  the  man's  identity.  As  soon  as  this  was  solved, 
some  very  startling  developments  might  be  expected. 

Laverick  threw  the  paper  away.    He  tried  to  rest  upon 


MYSTERIOUS    INQUIRIES  153 

the  sofa,  but  tried  in  vain.  He  found  himself  continually 
glancing  at  the  clock. 

"To-night,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  — "no,  I  will  not 
go  to-night !  It  is  not  fair  to  the  child.  It  is  absurd. 
Why,  she  would  think  that  I  was  — " 

He  stopped  short. 

"I'll  change  and  go  to  the  club,"  he  decided. 

He  rose  to  his  feet.  Just  then  there  was  a  ring  at  his 
bell.  He  opened  the  door  and  found  a  messenger  boy 
standing  in  the  vestibule. 

"  Note,  sir,  for  Mr.  Stephen  Laverick,"  the  boy  an- 
nounced, opening  his  wallet. 

Laverick  held  out  his  hand.  The  boy  gave  him  a  large 
square  envelope,  and  upon  the  back  of  it  was  "  Universal 
Theatre."  Laverick  tried  to  assure  himself  that  he  was 
not  so  ridiculously  pleased.  He  stepped  back  into  the 
room,  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  read  the  few  lines  traced 
in  rather  faint  but  delicate  handwriting. 

Are  you  coming  to  fetch  me  to-night  ?  Don't  let  me  be  a  nui- 
sance, but  do  come  if  you  have  nothing  to  do.  I  have  something 
to  tell  you.  ZOE. 

Laverick  gave  the  boy  a  shilling  for  himself  and  suddenly 
forgot  that  he  was  tired.  He  changed  his  clothes,  whis- 
tling softly  to  himself  all  the  time.  At  eleven  o'clock,  he 
was  at  the  stage-door  of  the  Universal  Theatre,  waiting  in 
a  taxicab. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LAVEEICK    IS    CEOSS-EXAMINED 

ONE  by  one  the  young  ladies  of  the  chorus  came  out 
from  the  stage-door  of  the  Universal,  in  most  cases  to  be 
assisted  into  a  waiting  hansom  or  taxicab  by  an  attendant 
cavalier.  Laverick  stood  back  in  the  shadows  as  much 
as  possible,  smiling  now  and  then  to  himself  at  this,  to 
him,  somewhat  novel  way  of  spending  the  evening.  Zoe 
was  among  the  last  to  appear.  She  came  up  to  him  with 
a  delightful  little  gesture  of  pleasure,  and  took  his  arm  as  a 
matter  of  course  as  he  led  her  across  to  the  waiting  cab. 

"  This  sort  of  thing  is  making  me  feel  absurdly  young," 
he  declared.  "Luigi's  for  supper,  I  suppose?" 

"Supper!"  she  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands.  "De- 
lightful !  Two  nights  following,  too !  I  did  love  last 
night." 

"  We  had  better  engage  a  table  at  Luigi's  permanently," 
he  remarked. 

"If  only  you  meant  it!"  she  sighed. 

He  laughed  at  her,  but  he  was  thoughtful  for  a  few 
minutes.  Afterwards,  when  they  sat  at  a  small  round 
table  in  the  somewhat  Bohemian  restaurant  which  was 
the  fashionable  rendezvous  of  the  moment  for  ladies  of 
the  theatrical  profession,  he  asked  her  a  question. 

"Tell  me  what  you  meant  in  your  note,"  he  begged. 
"You  said  that  you  had  some  information  for  me." 

"I'm  afraid  it  wasn't  anything  very  much,"  she  ad- 
mitted. "I  found  out  to-dav  that  some  one  had  been 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     155 

inquiring  at  the  stage-door  about  me,  and  whether  I  was 
connected  in  any  way  with  a  Mr.  Arthur  Morrison,  the 
stockbroker." 

"Do  you  know  who  it  was?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"The  man  left  no  name  at  all.  I  tried  to  get  the  door- 
keeper to  tell  me  about  him,  but  he's  such  a  surly  old 
fellow,  and  he's  so  used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  that  he  pre- 
tended he  did  n't  remember  anything." 

"It  seems  odd,"  he  remarked  thoughtfully,  "that  any 
one  should  have  found  you  out.  You  were  so  seldom 
with  Morrison.  I  dare  say,"  he  added,  "  it  was  just  some 
one  to  whom  your  brother  owes  some  small  sum  of 
money." 

"Very  likely,"  she  answered.  "But  I  was  going  to  tell 
you.  He  came  again  to-night  while  the  performance  was 
on,  and  sent  a  note  round.  I  have  brought  it  for  you  to 
see." 

The  note  —  it  was  really  little  more  than  a  message  — 
was  written  on  the  back  of  a  programme  and  enclosed  in 
an  envelope  evidently  borrowed  from  the  box-office.  It 
read  as  follows: 

DEAR  Miss  LENEVEU, 

I  believe  that  Mr.  Arthur  Morrison  is  a  connection  of  yours, 
and  I  am  venturing  to  introduce  myself  to  you  as  a  friend  of  his. 
Could  you  spare  me  half-an-hour  of  your  company  after  the 
performance  of  this  evening  ?  If  you  could  honor  me  so  much, 
you  might  perhaps  allow  me  to  give  you  some  supper. 

Sincerely, 

PHILIP  E.  MILES. 

Laverick  felt  an  absurd  pang  of  jealousy  as  he  handed 
back  the  programme. 


i56  HAVOC 

"I  should  say,"  he  declared,  "that  this  was  simply 
some  young  man  who  was  trying  to  scrape  an  acquaint- 
ance with  you  because  he  was  or  had  been  a  friend  of 
Morrison's." 

"In  that  case,"  answered  Zoe,  "he  is  very  soon 
forgotten." 

She  tore  the  programme  into  two  pieces,  and  Laverick 
was  conscious  of  a  ridiculous  feeling  of  pleasure  at  her 
indifference. 

"If  you  hear  anything  more  about  him,"  he  said,  "you 
might  let  me  know.  You  are  a  brave  young  lady  to  dis- 
miss your  admirers  so  summarily." 

"Perhaps  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  one,"  laughing 
softly. 

Laverick  told  himself  that  at  his  age  he  was  behaving 
like  an  idiot,  nevertheless  his  eyes  across  the  table  ex- 
pressed his  appreciation  of  her  speech. 

"Tell  me  something  about  yourself,  Mr.  Laverick," 
she  begged. 

"For  instance?" 

"First  of  all,  then,  how  old  are  you?" 

He  made  a  grimace. 

"  Thirty-eight  —  thirty-nine  my  next  birthday.  Does  n't 
that  seem  grandfatherly  to  you?" 

"You  must  not  be  absurd!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  is 
not  even  middle-aged.  Now  tell  me  —  how  do  you  spend 
your  time  generally?  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  go 
and  play  cards  at  your  club  most  evenings  ?" 

"I  have  a  good  many  friends,  and  I  dine  out  quite  a 
great  deal." 

"You  have  no  sisters?" 

"I  have  no  relatives  at  all  in  London,"  he  explained. 

"It  is  to  be  a  real  cross-examination,"  she  warned  him. 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     157 

"I  am  quite  content,"  he  answered.  "Go  ahead,  but 
remember,  though,  that  I  am  a  very  dull  person." 

"You  look  so  young  for  your  years,"  she  declared.  "I 
wonder,  have  you  ever  been  in  love?" 

He  laughed  heartily. 

"About  a  dozen  times,  I  suppose.  Why?  Do  I  seem 
to  you  like  a  misanthrope?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  admitted,  hesitatingly.  "You 
don't  seem  to  me  as  though  you  cared  to  make  friends 
very  easily.  I  just  felt  I  wanted  to  ask  you.  Have  you 
ever  been  engaged?" 

"  Never,"  he  assured  her. 

"And  when  was  the  last  time,"  she  asked,  "that  you 
felt  you  cared  a  little  for  any  one?" 

"It  dates  from  the  day  before  yesterday,"  he  declared, 
filling  her  glass. 

She  laughed  at  him. 

"Of  course,  it  is  nonsense  to  talk  to  you  like  this!" 
she  said.  "You  are  quite  right  to  make  fun  of 
me." 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  insisted.  "I  am  very  much  in 
earnest." 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  answered,  "if  you  are  in  earnest 
you  shall  be  in  love  with  me.  You  shall  take  me  about, 
give  me  supper  every  night,  send  me  some  sweets  and 
cigarettes  to  the  theatre  —  oh,  and  there  are  heaps  of 
things  you  ought  to  do  if  you  really  mean  it !"  she  wound 
up. 

"  If  those  things  mean  being  fond  of  you,"  he  answered, 
"I'll  prove  it  with  pleasure.  Sweets,  cigarettes,  suppers, 
taxicabs  at  the  stage-door." 

"It  all  sounds  very  terrible,"  she  sighed.  "It's  a 
horrid  little  life." 


i58  HAVOC 

"  Yet  I  suppose  you  enjoy  it  ?  "  he  remarked  tentatively. 

"I  hate  it,  but  I  must  do  something.  I  could  not  live 
on  charity.  If  I  knew  any  other  way  I  could  make  money, 
I  would  rather,  but  there  is  no  other  way.  I  tried  once  to 
give  music  lessons.  I  had  a  few  pupils,  but  they  never 
paid  —  they  never  do  pay." 

"I  wish  I  could  think  of  something,"  Laverick  said 
thoughtfully.  "Of  course,  it  is  occupation  you  want. 
So  far  as  regards  the  monetary  part  of  it,  I  still  owe  your 
brother  a  great  deal  — 

She  shook  her  head,  interrupting  him  with  a  quick 
little  gesture. 

"No,  no!"  she  declared.  "I  have  never  complained 
about  Arthur.  Sometimes  he  made  me  suffer,  because  I 
know  that  he  was  ashamed  of  having  a  relative  in  the 
chorus,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  do  not  wish  to  take  any 
of  his  money  —  or  of  anybody  else's,"  she  added.  "  I 
want  always  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"For  such  a  child,"  he  remarked,  smiling,  "you  are 
wonderfully  independent." 

"Why  not?"  she  answered  softly.  "It  is  years  since 
I  had  any  one  to  do  very  much  for  me.  Necessity  teaches 
us  a  good  many  things.  Oh,  I  was  helpless  enough  when 
it  began !"  she  added,  with  a  little  sigh.  "I  got  over  it. 
We  all  do.  Tell  me  —  who  is  that  woman,  and  why  does 
she  stare  so  at  you?" 

Laverick  looked  across  the  room.  Louise  and  Bel- 
lamy were  sitting  at  the  opposite  table.  The  former 
was  strikingly  handsome  and  very  wonderfully  dressed. 
Her  closely  clinging  gown,  cut  slightly  open  in  front,  dis- 
played her  marvelous  figure.  She  wore  long  pearl  ear- 
rings, and  a  hat  with  white  feathers  which  drooped  over 
her  fair  hair.  Laverick  recognized  her  at  once. 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     159 

"It  is  Mademoiselle  Idiale,"  he  said,  "the  most  won- 
derful soprano  in  the  world." 

"  Why  does  she  look  so  at  you  ?"  Zoe  asked. 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"I  do  not  know  her,"  he  said.  "I  know  who  she  is, 
of  course,  —  every  one  does.  She  is  a  Servian,  and  they 
say  that  she  is  devoted  to  her  country.  She  left  Vienna 
at  a  moment's  notice,  only  a  few  days  ago,  and  they  say 
that  it  was  because  she  had  sworn  never  to  sing  again 
before  the  enemies  of  her  country.  She  had  been  en- 
gaged a  long  time  to  appear  at  Covent  Garden,  but  no 
one  believed  that  she  would  really  come.  She  breaks  her 
engagements  just  when  she  chooses.  In  fact,  she  is  a 
very  wonderful  person  altogether." 

"I  never  saw  such  pearls  in  my  life,"  Zoe  whispered. 
"And  how  lovely  she  is!  I  do  not  understand,  though, 
why  she  is  so  interested  in  you." 

"She  mistakes  me  for  some  one,  perhaps." 

It  certainly  seemed  probable.  Even  at  that  moment 
she  touched  her  escort  upon  the  arm,  and  he  distinctly 
looked  across  at  Laverick.  It  was  obvious  that  he  was 
the  subject  of  her  conversation. 

"I  know  the  man,"  Laverick  said.  "He  was  at  Har- 
row with  me,  and  I  have  played  cricket  with  him  since. 
But  I  have  certainly  never  met  Mademoiselle  Idiale.  One 
does  not  forget  that  sort  of  person." 

"Her  figure  is  magnificent,"  Zoe  murmured  wistfully. 
"Do  you  like  tall  women  very  much,  Mr.  Laverick?" 

"I  adore  them,"  he  answered,  smiling,  "but  I  prefer 
small  ones." 

"We  are  very  foolish  people,  you  and  I,"  she  laughed. 
"We  came  together  so  strangely  and  yet  we  talk  such 
frivolous  nonsense." 


i6o  HAVOC 

"  You  are  making  me  young  again,"  he  declared. 

"Oh,  you  are  quite  young  enough!"  she  assured  him. 
"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  jealous.  Mademoiselle 
Idiale  looks  at  you  all  the  time.  Look  at  her  now.  Is  she 
not  beautiful?" 

There  was  no  doubt  about  her  beauty,  but  those  who 
were  criticising  her  —  and  she  was  by  far  the  most  in- 
teresting person  in  the  room  —  thought  her  a  little  sad. 
Though  Bellamy  was  doing  his  utmost  to  be  entertaining, 
her  eyes  seemed  to  travel  every  now  and  then  over  his 
head  and  out  of  the  room.  Wherever  her  thoughts  were, 
one  could  be  very  sure  that  they  were  not  fixed  upon  the 
subject  under  discussion. 

"She  is  like  that  when  she  sings,"  Laverick  remarked. 
"She  has  none  of  the  vivacity  of  the  Frenchwomen.  Yet 
there  was  never  anything  so  graceful  in  the  world  as  the 
way  she  moves  about  the  stage." 

"If  I  were  a  man,"  Zoe  sighed,  "that  is  the  sort  of 
woman  I  would  die  for." 

"If  you  were  a  man,"  he  replied,  "you  would  probably 
find  some  one  whom  you  preferred  to  live  for.  Do  you 
know,  you  are  rather  a  morbid  sort  of  person,  Miss  Zoe  ?" 

"Ah,  I  like  that !"  she  declared.  "I  will  not  be  called 
Miss  Leneveu  any  more  by  you.  You  must  call  me  Miss 
Zoe,  please,  — Zoe,  if  you  like." 

"Zoe,  by  all  means.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  think 
it  is  only  fitting." 

His  eyes  wandered  across  the  room  again. 

"  Ah ! "  she  cried  softly,  "  you,  too,  are  coming  under 
the  spell,  then.  I  was  reading  about  her  only  the  other 
day.  They  say  that  so  many  men  fall  in  love  with  her  — 
so  many  men  to  whom  she  gives  no  encouragement  at 
all." 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     161 

Laverick  looked  into  his  companion's  face. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "my  heart  is  not  so  easily  won.  I 
can  assure  you  that  I  never  aspire  to  so  mighty  a  per- 
sonage as  a  Covent  Garden  star.  Don't  you  know  that 
she  gets  a  salary  of  five  hundred  pounds  a  week,  and  wears 
ropes  of  pearls  which  would  represent  ten  times  my  entire 
income?  Heaven  alone  knows  what  her  gowns  cost!" 

"After  all,  though,"  murmured  Zoe,  "she  is  a  woman. 
See,  your  friend  is  coming  to  speak  to  you." 

Bellamy  was  indeed  crossing  the  room.  He  nodded  to 
Laverick  and  bowed  to  his  companion. 

"Forgive  my  intruding,  Laverick,"  he  said.  "You  do 
remember  me,  I  hope?  Bellamy,  you  know." 

"  I  remember  you  quite  well.  We  used  to  play  together 
at  Lord's,  even  after  we  left  school." 

Bellamy  smiled. 

"That  is  so,"  he  answered.  "I  see  by  the  papers 
that  you  have  kept  up  your  cricket.  Mine,  alas !  has 
had  to  go.  I  have  been  too  much  of  a  rolling  stone 
lately.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
a  favor?" 

"  Go  ahead,"  Laverick  interposed. 

"Mademoiselle  Idiale  has  a  fancy  to  meet  you,"  Bel- 
lamy explained.  "You  know,  or  I  dare  say  you  have 
heard,  what  a  creature  of  whims  she  is.  If  you  won't 
come  across  and  be  introduced  like  a  good  fellow,  she 
probably  won't  speak  a  word  all  through  supper-time,  go 
off  in  a  huff,  and  my  evening  will  be  spoiled." 

Laverick  laughed  heartily.  A  little  smile  played  at 
the  corner  of  Zoe's  lips  —  nevertheless,  she  was  looking 
slightly  anxious. 

"Under  those  circumstances,"  remarked  Laverick, 
"perhaps  I  had  better  go.  You  will  understand,"  he 


162  HAVOC 

added,  with  a  glance  at  Zoe,  "that  I  cannot  stay  for 
more  than  a  second." 

"Naturally,"  Bellamy  answered.  "If  Mademoiselle 
really  has  anything  to  say  to  you,  I  will,  if  I  am  permitted, 
return  for  a  moment." 

Laverick  introduced  him  to  Zoe. 

"I  am  sure  I  have  seen  you  at  the  Universal,"  he  de- 
clared. "  You  're  in  the  front  row,  are  n't  you  ?  I  have 
seen  you  in  that  clever  little  step-dance  and  song  in  the 
second  act." 

She  nodded,  evidently  pleased. 

"Does  it  seem  clever  to  you?"  she  asked  wistfully. 
"You  see,  we  are  all  so  tired  of  it." 

"I  think  it  is  ripping,"  Bellamy  declared.  "I  shall 
have  the  pleasure  again  directly,"  he  added,  with  a  bow. 

The  two  men  crossed  the  room. 

"What  the  dickens  does  Mademoiselle  Idiale  want 
with  me?"  Laverick  demanded.  "Does  she  know  that 
I  am  a  poor  stockbroker,  struggling  against  hard  times?" 

Bellamy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  She  is  n't  the  sort  to  care  who  or  what  you  are,"  he 
answered.  "And  as  for  the  rest,  I  suppose  she  could  buy 
any  of  us  up  if  she  wanted  to.  Her  interest  in  you  is  rather 
a  curious  one.  No  time  to  explain  it  now.  She'll  tell 

you." 

Louise  smiled  as  he  paused  before  her.  She  was  cer- 
tainly exquisitely  beautiful.  Her  dress,  her  carriage,  her 
delicate  hands,  even  her  voice,  were  all  perfection.  She 
gave  him  the  tips  of  her  fingers  as  Bellamy  pronounced 
his  name. 

"It  is  so  kind  of  you,"  she  said,  "to  come  and  speak 
to  me.  And  indeed  you  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  Y/..V  I 
thought  that  I  would  like  to  say  one  word  with  you." 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     163 

Laverick  bowed. 

"I  am  thankful,  Mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  "for  any- 
thing which  procures  me  such  a  pleasure." 

She  smiled. 

"Ah!  you,  too,  are  gallant,"  she  said.  "But  indeed, 
then,  I  fear  you  will  not  be  flattered  when  I  tell  you  why 
I  was  so  interested.  I  read  all  your  newspapers.  I  read 
of  that  terrible  murder  in  Crooked  Friars'  Alley  only  a 
few  days  ago,  —  is  not  that  how  you  call  the  place  ?" 

Laverick  was  suddenly  grave.  What  was  this  that  was 
coming  ? 

''One  of  the  reports,"  she  continued,  "says  that  the 
man  was  a  foreigner.  The  maker's  name  upon  his  clothes 
was  Austrian.  I,  too,  come  from  that  part  of  Europe  — 
if  not  from  Austria,  from  a  country  very  near  —  and  I 
am  always  interested  in  my  country-people.  A  few  mo- 
ments ago  I  asked  my  friend  Mr.  Bellamy,  'Where  is 
this  Crooked  Friars'  Alley?'  Just  then  he  bowed  to  you, 
and  he  answered  me,  'It  is  in  the  city.  It  is  within  a 
yard  or  two  of  the  offices  of  the  gentleman  to  whom  I 
just  have  said  good-evening.'  So  I  looked  across  at  you 
and  I  thought  that  it  was  strange." 

Laverick  scarcely  knew  what  to  say. 

"It  was  a  terrible  affair,"  he  admitted,  "and,  as  Mr. 
Bellamy  has  told  you,  it  occurred  within  a  few  steps  of 
my  office.  So  far,  too,  the  police  seem  completely  at  a 
loss." 

"Ah!"  she  went  on,  shaking  her  head,  "your  police, 
I  am  afraid  they  are  not  very  clever.  It  is  too  bad,  but  I 
am  afraid  that  it  is  so.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Laverick,  is  this, 
then,  a  very  lonely  spot  where  your  offices  are?" 

"Xot  at  all,"  Laverick  replied.  "On  the  contrary,  in 
the  daytime  it  might  be  called  the  heart  of  the  city  —  of 


164  HAVOC 

the  money-making  part  of  the  city,  at  any  rate.  Only 
this  thing,  you  see,  seems  to  have  taken  place  very  late 
at  night." 

"When  all  the  offices  were  closed,"  she  remarked. 

"Most  of  them,"  Laverick  answered.  "Mine,  as  it 
happened,  was  open  late  that  night.  I  passed  the  spot 
within  half-an-hour  or  so  of  the  time  when  the  murder 
must  have  been  committed." 

"But  that  is  terrible !"  she  declared,  shaking  her  head. 
"Tell  me,  Mr.  Laverick,  if  I  drive  to  your  office  some 
morning  you  will  show  me  this  place, — yes?" 

"If  you  are  in  earnest,  Mademoiselle,  I  will  certainly 
do  so,  but  there  is  nothing  there.  It  is  just  a  passage." 

"You  give  me  your  address,"  she  insisted,  "and  I  think 
that  I  will  come.  You  are  a  stockbroker,  Mr.  Bellamy 
tells  me.  Well,  sometimes  I  have  a  good  deal  of  money 
to  invest.  I  come  to  you  and  you  will  give  me  your  ad- 
vice. So!  You  have  a  card!" 

Laverick  found  one  and  scribbled  his  city  address  upon 
it.  She  thanked  him  and  once  more  held  out  the  tips  of 
her  fingers. 

"So  I  shall  see  you  again  some  day,  Mr.  Laverick." 

He  bowed  and  recrossed  the  room.  Bellamy  was  stand- 
ing talking  to  Zoe. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  as  Laverick  returned,  "  are  you,  too, 
going  to  throw  yourself  beneath  the  car?" 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  he  answered.  "Our  acquaintance 
promises  to  be  a  business  one.  Mademoiselle  spoke  of 
investing  some  money  through  me." 

Bellamy  laughed. 

"Then  you  have  kept  your  heart,"  he  remarked.  "Ah, 
well,  you  have  every  reason !" 


LAVERICK    IS    CROSS-EXAMINED     165 

He  bowed  to  Zoe,  nodded  to  Laverick,  and  re- 
turned to  his  place.  Laverick  looked  after  him  a 
little  compassionately. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  he  said. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"He  has  some  sort  of  a  Government  appointment," 
Laverick  answered.  "They  say  he  is  hopelessly  in  love 
with  Mademoiselle  Idiale." 

"Why  not?"  Zoe  exclaimed.  "He  is  nice.  She  must 
care  for  some  one.  Why  do  you  pity  him  ?" 

"  They  say,  too,  that  she  has  no  more  heart  than  a  stone," 
Laverick  continued.  "  and  that  never  a  man  has  had  even 
a  kind  word  from  her.  She  is  very  patriotic,  and  all  the 
thoughts  and  love  she  has  to  spare  from  herself  are  given 
to  her  country." 

Zoe  shuddered. 

"Ah!"  she  murmured,  "I  do  not  like  to  think  of 
heartless  women.  Perhaps  she  is  not  so  cruel,  after  all. 
To  me  she  seems  only  very,  very  sad.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Lave- 
rick, why  did  she  send  for  you?" 

"I  imagine,"  said  he,  "that  it  was  a  whim.  It  must 
have  been  a  whim." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MADEMOISELLE    IDIALE's    VISIT 

LAVERICK,  on  the  following  morning,  found  many  things 
to  think  about.  He  was  accustomed  to  lunch  always  at 
the  same  restaurant,  within  a  few  yards  of  his  office,  and 
with  the  same  little  company  of  friends.  Just  as  he  was 
leaving,  an  outside  broker  whom  he  knew  slightly  came 
across  the  room  to  him. 

"Tell  me,  Laverick,"  he  asked,  "what's  become  of 
your  partner?" 

"He  has  gone  abroad  for  a  few  weeks.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  we  shall  be  announcing  a  change  in  the  firm  shortly." 

"  Queer  thing,"  the  broker  remarked.  "  I  was  in  Liver- 
pool yesterday,  and  I  could  have  sworn  that  I  saw  him 
hanging  around  the  docks.  I  should  never  have  doubted 
it,  but  Morrison  was  always  so  careful  about  his  appear- 
ance, and  this  fellow  was  such  a  seedy-looking  individual. 
I  called  out  to  him  and  he  vanished  like  a  streak." 

"It  could  scarcely  have  been  Morrison,"  Laverick 
said.  "He  sailed  several  days  ago  for  New  York." 

"That  settles  it,"  the  man  declared,  passing  on.  "All 
the  same,  it  was  the  most  extraordinary  likeness  I  ever 
saw." 

Laverick,  on  his  way  back,  went  into  a  cable  office  and 
wrote  out  a  marconigram  to  the  Lusitania,  — 

Have  you  passenger  Arthur  Morrison  on  board  ?     Reply. 

He  signed  his  name  and  paid  for  an  answer.  Then  he 
went  back  to  his  office. 


MADEMOISELLE    IDIALE'S    VISIT      167 

"Any  one  to  see  me?"  he  inquired. 

"  Mr.  Shepherd  is  here  waiting,"  his  clerk  told  him,  — 
"queer  looking  fellow  who  paid  you  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  in  cash  for  some  railway  stock." 

Layerick  nodded. 

"I'll  see  him,"  he  said.    "Anything  else?" 

"  A  lady  rang  up  —  name  sounded  like  a  French  one, 
but  we  could  none  of  us  catch  what  it  was  —  to  say  that 
she  was  coming  down  to  see  you." 

"If  it  is  Mademoiselle  Idiale,"  Laverick  directed,  "I 
must  see  her  directly  she  arrives.  How  are  you,  Shep- 
herd?" he  added,  nodding  to  the  waiter  as  he  passed 
towards  his  room.  "Come  in,  will  you?  You've  got 
your  certificates  all  right?" 

Mr.  James  Shepherd  had  the  air  of  a  man  with  whom 
prosperity  had  not  wholly  agreed.  He  was  paler  and 
pastier-looking  than  ever,  and  his  little  green  eyes  seemed 
even  more  restless.  His  attire  —  a  long  rough  overcoat 
over  the  livery  of  his  profession  —  scarcely  enhanced  the 
dignity  of  his  appearance. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  Laverick  asked,  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  closed. 

"Our  bar  is  being  watched,"  the  man  declared.  "I 
don't  think  it's  anything  to  do  with  the  police.  Seems 
to  be  a  sort  of  foreign  gang.  They're  all  round  the 
place,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  They've  pumped 
everybody." 

"  There  is  n't  very  much,"  Laverick  remarked  slowly, 
"for  them  to  find  out  except  from  you." 

"They've  found  out  something,  anyway,"  Shepherd 
continued.  "My  junior  waiter,  unfortunately,  who  was 
asleep  in  the  sitting-room,  told  them  he  was  sure  there 
were  customers  in  the  place  between  ten  and  twelve  on 


168  HAVOC 

Monday  night,  because  they  woke  him  up  twice,  talking. 
They're  beginning  to  look  at  me  a  bit  doubtful." 

"  I  should  n't  worry,"  Laverick  advised.  "  The  in- 
quest 's  on  now  and  you  have  n't  been  called.  I  don't 
fancy  you're  running  any  sort  of  risk.  Any  one  may  say 
they  believe  there  were  people  in  the  bar  between  those 
hours,  but  there  is  n't  any  one  who  can  contradict  you 
outright.  Besides,  you  have  n't  sworn  to  anything. 
You've  simply  said,  as  might  be  very  possible,  that  you 
don't  remember  any  one." 

"It  makes  me  a  bit  nervous,  though,"  Shepherd  re- 
marked apologetically.  "They're  a  regular  keen-looking 
tribe,  I  can  tell  you.  Their  eyes  seem  to  follow  you  all 
over  the  place." 

"  I  shall  come  in  for  a  drink  presently  myself,"  Laverick 
declared.  "  I  should  like  to  see  them.  I  might  get  an  idea 
as  to  their  nationality,  at  any  rate." 

"Very  good,  sir.  I'm  sure  I'm  doing  just  as  you  sug- 
gested. I've  said  nothing  about  leaving,  but  I'm  begin- 
ning to  grumble  a  bit  at  the  work,  so  as  to  pave  the  way. 
It's  a  hard  job,  and  no  mistake.  I  had  thirty-nine  chops 
between  one  and  half-past,  single-handed,  too,  with  only 
a  boy  to  carry  the  bread  and  that,  and  no  one  to  serve  the 
drinks  unless  they  go  to  the  counter  for  them.  It's  more 
than  one  man's  work,  Mr.  Laverick." 

Laverick  assented. 

"So  much  the  better,"  he  declared.  "All  the  more 
excuse  for  your  leaving." 

"You'll  be  round  sometime  to-day,  sir,  then?"  the 
man  asked,  taking  up  his  hat. 

"I  shall  look  in  for  a  few  moments,  for  certain,"  Lav- 
erick answered.  "  If  you  get  a  chance  you  must  point  out 
to  me  one  of  those  fellows." 


MADEMOISELLE    IDIALE'S    VISIT      169 

Jim  Shepherd  departed.  There  was  a  shouting  of 
newspaper  boys  in  the  street  outside.  Laverick  sent  out 
for  a  paper.  The  account  of  the  inquest  was  brief 
enough,  and  there  were  no  witnesses  called  except  the 
men  who  had  found  the  dead  body.  The  nature  of  the 
wounds  was  explained  to  the  jury,  also  the  impossibility 
of  their  having  been  self-inflicted.  In  the  absence  of  any 
police  evidence  or  any  identification,  the  discussion  as 
to  the  manner  of  the  death  was  naturally  limited.  The 
jury  contented  themselves  by  bringing  in  a  verdict  of 
"  Wilful  murder  against  some  person  or  persons  un- 
known." Laverick  laid  down  the  paper.  The  comple- 
tion of  the  inquest  was  at  least  the  first  definite  step 
toward  safety.  The  question  now  before  him  was  what 
to  do  with  that  twenty  thousand  pounds.  He  sat  at  his 
desk,  looking  into  vacancy.  After  all,  had  he  paid  too 
great  a  price?  The  millstone  was  gone  from  around  his 
neck,  something  new  and  incomprehensible  had  crept 
into  his  life.  Yet  for  a  background  there  was  always 
this  secret  knowledge. 

A  clerk  announcing  Mademoiselle  Idiale  broke  in  upon 
his  reflections.  Laverick  rose  from  his  seat  to  greet  his 
visitor.  She  was  wonderfully  dressed,  as  usual,  yet  with 
the  utmost  simplicity,  —  a  white  serge  gown  with  a  large 
black  hat,  but  a  gown  that  seemed  to  have  been  moulded 
on  to  her  slim,  faultless  figure.  She  brought  with  her  a 
musical  rustle,  a  slight  suggestion  of  subtle  perfumes  — 
a  perfume  so  thin  and  ethereal  that  it  was  unrecognizable 
except  in  its  faint  suggestion  of  hothouse  flowers.  She 
held  out  her  hand  to  Laverick,  who  placed  for  her  at  once 
an  easy-chair. 

"This  is  indeed  an  honor,  Mademoiselle." 

She  inclined  her  head  graciously. 


170  HAVOC 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  she.  "I  know  that  here  in 
the  city  you  are  very  busy  making  money  all  the  time,  so 
I  must  not  stay  long.  Will  you  buy  me  some  stocks,  — 
some  good  safe  stocks,  which  will  bring  me  in  at  least  four 
per  cent  ?  " 

"  I  can  promise  to  do  that,"  Laverick  answered.  "  Have 
you  any  choice?" 

"No,  I  have  no  choice,"  Louise  told  him.  "I  bring 
with  me  a  cheque,  —  see,  I  give  it  to  you,  —  it  is  for  six 
thousand  pounds.  I  would  like  to  buy  some  stocks  with 
this,  and  to  know  the  names  so  that  I  may  watch  them  in 
the  paper.  I  like  to  see  whether  they  go  up  or  down,  but 
I  do  not  wish  to  risk  their  going  down  too  much.  It  is 
something  like  gambling  but  it  is  no  trouble." 

"Your  money  shall  be  spent  in  a  few  minutes,  Made- 
moiselle," Laverick  assured  her,  "and  I  think  I  can 
promise  you  that  for  a  week  or  two,  at  any  rate,  your 
stocks  will  go  up.  With  regard  to  selling  — 

"I  leave  everything  to  you,"  she  interrupted,  "only  let 
me  know  what  you  propose." 

"We  will  do  our  best,"  Laverick  promised. 

"It  is  good,"  she  said.  "Money  is  a  wonderful  thing. 
Without  it  one  can  do  little.  You  have  not  forgotten, 
Mr.  Laverick,  that  you  were  going  to  show  me  this 
passage  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  Come  with  me  now,  if  you  will.  It  is 
only  a  yard  or  two  away." 

He  took  her  out  into  the  street.  Every  clerk  in  the 
office  forgot  his  manners  and  craned  his  neck.  Outside, 
Mademoiselle  let  fall  her  veil  and  passed  unrecognized. 
Laverick  showed  her  the  entry. 

"It  was  just  there,"  he  explained,  "about  half  a  dozen 
yards  up  on  the  left,  that  the  body  was  found." 


MADEMOISELLE     IDIALE'S    VISIT      171 

She  looked  at  the  place  steadily.  Then  she  looked 
along  the  passage. 

"  Where  does  it  lead  to  —  that  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Come  and  I  will  show  you.  On  the  left  "  —  as  they 
passed  along  the  flagged  pavement  — "  is  St.  Nicholas 
Church  and  churchyard.  On  the  right  here  there  are 
just  offices.  The  street  in  front  of  us  is  Henschell  Street. 
All  of  those  buildings  are  stockbrokers'  offices." 

"  And  directly  opposite,"  she  asked,  —  "  that  is  a  cafe, 
is  it  not,  — a  restaurant,  as  you  would  call  it?" 

Laverick  nodded. 

"That  is  so,"  he  agreed.  "  One  goes  in  there  sometimes 
for  a  drink." 

"And  a  meeting  place,  perhaps?"  she  inquired.  "It 
would  probably  be  a  meeting  place.  One  might  leave 
there  and  walk  down  this  passage  naturally  enough." 

Laverick  inclined  his  head. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  declared,  "  I  think  that  the 
evidence  went  to  prove  that  there  were  no  visitors  in  the 
restaurant  that  night.  You  see,  all  these  offices  round 
here  close  at  six  or  seven  o'clock,  and  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood becomes  deserted." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently. 

"Your  English  police,  they  do  not  know  how  to  collect 
evidence.  In  the  hands  of  Frenchmen,  this  mystery 
would  have  been  solved  long  before  now.  The  guilty 
person  would  be  in  the  hands  of  the  law.  As  it  is,  I  sup- 
pose that  he  will  go  free." 

"  Well,  we  must  give  the  police  a  chance,  at  any  rate," 
answered  Laverick.  "  They  have  n't  had  much  time 
so  far." 

"No,"  she  admitted,  "they  have  not  had  much  time. 
I  wonder  — "  She  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  did  not 


172  HAVOC 

conclude  her  sentence.  "Come,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
little  shiver,  "  let  us  go  back  to  your  office !  This  place  is 
not  cheerful.  All  the  time  I  think  of  that  poor  man.  It 
<loes  make  me  frightened." 

Laverick  escorted  his  visitor  back  to  the  electric 
brougham  which  was  waiting  before  his  door. 

"A  list  of  stocks  purchased  on  your  behalf  will  reach 
you  by  to-night's  post,"  he  promised  her.  "We  shall  do 
our  best  in  your  interests." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  but  she  seemed  in  no  hurry  to 
let  him  go. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Laverick.  I  would  like  to 
see  you  again  very  soon.  You  have  heard  me  sing  in 
Samson  and  Delilah  ?" 

"Not  yet,  but  I  am  hoping  to  very  shortly." 

"To-night,"  she  declared,  "you  must  come  to  the 
Opera  House.  I  leave  a  box  for  you  at  the  door.  Send 
me  round  a  note  that  you  are  there,  and  it  is  possible  that 
I  may  see  you.  It  is  against  the  rules,  but  for  me  there 
are  no  rules." 

Laverick  hesitating,  she  leaned  forward  and  looked 
into  his  face. 

"You  are  doing  something  else?"  she  protested. 
"You  were,  perhaps,  thinking  of  taking  out  again  the 
little  girl  with  whom  you  were  sitting  last  night?" 

"  I  had  half  promised  — 

"No,  no!"  she  exclaimed,  holding  his  hand  tighter. 
"  She  is  not  for  you  —  that  child.  She  is  too  young.  She 
knows  nothing.  Better  to  leave  her  alone.  She  is  not  for 
a  man  of  the  world  like  you.  Soon  she  would  cease  to 
amuse  you.  You  would  be  dull  and  she  would  still  care. 
Oh,  there  is  so  much  tragedy  in  these  things,  Mr.  Laverick 
—  so  much  tragedy  for  the  woman !  It  is  she  always 


MADEMOISELLE    IDIALE'S    VISIT      173 

who  suffers.     You  will  take  my  advice.     You  will  leave 
that  little  girl  alone." 

Laverick  smiled. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  he,  "that  I  cannot  promise  that  so 
quickly.     You  see,  I  have  not  known  her  long,  but  she 
has  very  few  friends  and  I  think  that  she  would  miss  me 
Perhaps,"  he  added,  after  a  second's  pause,  "I  care  for 
her  too  much." 

"It  is  not  for  you,"  she  answered  scornfully,  "to  care 
too  much.  An  Englishman,  he  cares  never  enough.  A 
woman  to  him  is  something  amusing,  —  his  companion 
for  a  little  of  his  spare  time,  something  to  be  pleased 
about,  to  show  off  to  his  friends,  —  to  share,  even,  the 
passion  of  the  moment.  But  an  Englishman  he  does  not 
care  too  much.  He  never  cares  enough.  He  does  not 
know  what  it  is  to  care  enough." 

"Mademoiselle,  there  may  be  truth  in  what  you 
say,  and  again  there  may  not.  We  have  the  name,  I 
know,  of  being  cold  lovers,  but  at  least  we  are 
faithful." 

She  held  up  her  hand  with  a  little  grimace. 

"Oh,  how  I  do  hate  that  word!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Who  is  there,  indeed,  who  wishes  that  you  would  be 
faithful  ?  How  much  we  poor  women  do  suffer  from  that ! 
Why  can  you  never  understand  that  a  woman  would  be 
cared  for  very,  very  much,  with  all  the  strength  and  all 
the  passion  you  can  conceive,  but  let  it  not  last  for  too 
long.  It  gets  weary.  It  gets  stale.  It  is  as  you  say,  - 
the  Englishman  he  cares  very  little,  perhaps,  but  he 
cares  always;  and  the  woman,  if  she  be  an  artiste  and 
a  woman,  she  tires.  But  good  afternoon,  Mr  Laverick  ! 
I  must  not  keep  you  here  on  the  pavement  talking  of 
these  frivolous  matters.  You  come  to-night?" 


i74  HAVOC 

"You  are  very  kind,"  Laverick  said.  "If  I  may 
come  until  eleven  o'clock,  it  would  give  me  the  greatest 
pleasure." 

"As  you  will,"  she  declared.  "We  shall  see.  I  expect 
you,  then.  You  ask  for  your  box." 

"  If  you  wish  it,  certainly." 

She  smiled  and  waved  her  hand. 

"You  will  tell  him,  please,"  she  directed,  "to  drive  to 
Bond  Street." 

Laverick  re-entered  his  office,  pausing  for  a  minute  to 
give  his  clerk  instructions  for  the  purchase  of  stocks  for 
Mademoiselle  Idiale.  He  had  scarcely  reached  his  own 
room  when  he  was  told  that  Mr.  James  Shepherd  wished 
to  speak  to  him  for  a  moment  upon  the  telephone.  He 
took  up  the  receiver. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"It  is  Shepherd,"  was  the  answer.  "Is  that  Mr. 
Laverick  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"You  were  outside  the  restaurant  here  a  few  minutes 
ago,"  Shepherd  continued.  "  You  had  with  you  a  lady  — 
a  young,  tall  lady  with  a  veil." 

"That's  right,"  Laverick  admitted.  "What  about 
her?" 

"One  of  the  two  men  who  watch  always  here  was 
reading  the  paper  in  the  window,"  Shepherd  went  on 
hoarsely.  "  He  saw  her  with  you  and  I  heard  him  mutter 
something  as  though  he  had  received  a  shock.  He  dropped 
his  glass  and  his  paper.  He  watched  you  every  second  of 
the  time  you  were  there  until  you  had  disappeared.  Then 
he,  too,  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out." 

"Anything  else?" 

"Nothing  else,"  was  the  reply.    "I  thought  you  might 


MADEMOISELLE    IDIALE'S    VISIT      175 

like  to  know  this,  sir.  The  man  recognized  the  lady 
right  enough." 

"It  seems  queer,"  Laverick  admitted.  "Thank  you 
for  ringing  me  up,  Shepherd.  Good  morning !" 

Laverick  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  There  was  no  doubt 
whatever  now  in  his  mind  but  that  Mademoiselle  Idiale, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  was  interested  in  this  crime. 
Her  wish  to  see  the  place,  her  introduction  to  him  last 
night  and  her  purchase  of  stocks,  were  all  part  of  a  scheme. 
He  was  suddenly  and  absolutely  convinced  of  it.  As 
friend  or  foe,  she  was  very  certainly  about  to  take  her 
place  amongst  the  few  people  over  whom  this  tragedy 
loomed. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ACTIVITY    OF    AUSTRIAN    SPIES 

LOUISE  left  her  brougham  in  Piccadilly  and  walked 
across  the  Green  Park.  Bellamy,  who  was  waiting,  rose 
up  from  a  seat,  hat  in  hand.  She  took  his  arm  in  foreign 
fashion.  They  walked  together  towards  Buckingham 
Palace  —  a  strangely  distinguished-looking  couple. 

"My  dear  David,"  she  said,  "the  man  perplexes  me. 
To  look  at  him,  to  hear  him  speak,  one  would  swear  that 
he  was  honest.  He  has  just  those  clear  blue  eyes  and 
the  stolid  face,  half  stupid  and  half  splendid,  of  your 
athletic  Englishman.  One  would  imagine  him  doing  a 
foolishly  honorable  thing,  but  he  is  not  my  conception  of 
a  criminal  at  all." 

Bellamy  kicked  a  pebble  from  the  path.  His  forehead 
wore  a  perplexed  frown. 

"He  did  n't  give  himself  away,  then?" 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"He  took  you  out  and  showed  you  the  spot  where  it 
happened  ? " 

"Without  an  instant's  hesitation." 

"As  a  matter  of  curiosity,"  asked  Bellamy,  "did  he  try 
to  make  love  to  you  ? " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  even  gave  him  an  opening,"  she  said.  "Of  flirta- 
tion he  has  no  more  idea  than  the  average  stupid  English- 
man one  meets." 

Bellamy  was  silent  for  several  moments. 


ACTIVITY    OF    AUSTRIAN    SPIES      177 

"I  can't  believe,"  he  said,  "that  there  is  the  least 
doubt  but  that  he  has  the  money  and  the  portfolio.  I 
have  made  one  or  two  other  inquiries,  and  I  find  that  his 
firm  was  in  very  low  water  indeed  only  a  week  ago.  They 
were  spoken  of,  in  fact,  as  being  hopelessly  insolvent. 
No  one  can  imagine  how  they  tided  over  the  crisis." 

"The  man  who  was  watching  for  you?"  she -inquired. 

"He  makes  no  mistakes,"  Bellamy  assured  her.  "He 
saw  Laverick  enter  that  passage  and  come  out.  After- 
wards he  went  back  to  his  office,  although  he  had  closed 
up  there  and  had  been  on  his  homeward  way.  The 
thing  could  not  have  been  accidental." 

"Why  do  you  not  go  to  him  openly?"  she  suggested. 
"He  is,  after  all,  an  Englishman,  and  when  you  tell  him 
what  you  know  he  will  be  very  much  in  your  power.  Tell 
him  of  the  value  of  that  document.  Tell  him  that  you 
must  have  it." 

"It  could  be  done,"  Bellamy  admitted.    "I  think  that 
one  of  us  must  talk  plainly  to  him.     Listen,  Louise,  - 
are  you  seeing  him  again?" 

"I  have  invited  him  to  come  to  the  Opera  House 
to-night." 

"See  what  you  can  do,"  he  begged.  "I  would  rather 
keep  away  from  him  myself,  if  I  can.  Have  you  heard 
anything  of  Streuss?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

''Nothing  directly,"  she  replied,  "but  my  rooms  have 
been  searched  —  even  my  dressing-room  at  the  Opera 
Souse.  That  man's  spies  are  simply  wonderful.  He 
seems  able  to  plant  them  everywhere.  And,  David  ! 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"He  has  got  hold  of  Lassen,"  she  continued.  "I  am 
perfectly  certain  of  it." 


178  HAVOC 

Then  the  sooner  you  get  rid  of  Lassen,  the  better," 
Bellamy  declared. 

"It  is  so  difficult,"  she  murmured,  in  a  perplexed  tone. 
"The  man  has  all  my  affairs  in  his  hands.  Up  till  now, 
although  he  is  uncomely,  and  a  brute  in  many  ways,  he 
has  served  me  well." 

"If  he  is  Streuss's  creature  he  must  go,"  Bellamy 
insisted. 

She  nodded. 

"Let  us  sit  down  for  a  few  minutes,"  she  said.  "I  am 
tired." 

She  sank  on  to  a  seat  and  Bellamy  sat  by  her  side. 
In  full  view  of  them  was  Buckingham  Palace  with  its 
flag  flying.  She  looked  thoughtfully  at  it  and  across  to 
Westminster. 

"Do  they  know,  I  wonder,  your  country-people ?"  she 
asked. 

"  Half-a-dozen  of  them,  perhaps,"  he  answered  gloomily, 
—  "no  more." 

"To-day,"  she  declared,  "I  seem  to  have  lost  confi- 
dence. I  seem  to  feel  the  sense  of  impending  calamity, 
to  hear  the  guns  as  I  walk,  to  see  the  terror  fall  upon  the 
faces  of  all  these  great  crowds  who  throng  your  streets. 
They  are  a  stolid,  unbelieving  people  —  these.  The  blow, 
when  it  comes,  will  be  the  harder." 

Bellamy  sighed. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "When  one  comes  to  think 
of  it,  it  is  amazing.  How  long  the  prophets  of  woe  have 
preached,  and  how  completely  their  teachings  have  been 
ignored !  The  invasion  bogey  has  been  so  long  among  us 
that  it  has  become  nothing  but  a  jest.  Even  I,  in  a  way, 
am  one  of  the  unbelievers." 

"You  are  not  serious,  David  !"  she  exclaimed. 


ACTIVITY    OF    AUSTRIAN    SPIES      179 

"I  am,"  he  affirmed.  "I  think  that  if  we  could  read 
that  document  we  should  see  that  there  is  no  plan  there 
for  the  immediate  invasion  of  England.  I  think  you 
would  find  that  the  blow  would  be  struck  simultaneously 
at  our  Colonies.  We  should  either  have  to  submit  or 
send  a  considerable  fleet  away  from  home  waters.  Then, 
I  presume,  the  question  of  invasion  would  come  again. 
All  the  time,  of  course,  the  gage  would  be  flung  down, 
treaties  would  be  defied,  we  should  be  scorned  as  though 
we  were  a  nation  of  weaklings.  Austria  would  gather  in 
what  she  wanted,  and  there  would  be  no  one  to  interfere." 

Louise  was  very  pale  but  her  eyes  were  flashing  fire. 

"It  is  the  most  terrible  thing  which  has  happened  in 
history,"  she  said,  "this  decadence  of  your  country. 
Once  England  held  the  scales  of  justice  for  the  world. 
Now  she  is  no  longer  strong  enough,  and  there  is  none 
to  take  her  place.  David,  even  if  you  know  what  that 
document  contains,  even  then  will  it  help  very  much?" 

"Very  much  indeed.  Don't  you  see  that  there  is  one 
hope  left  to  us  —  one  hope  —  and  that  is  Russia  ?  The 
Czar  must  be  made  to  withdraw  from  that  compact.  We 
want  to  know  his  share  in  it.  When  we  know  that,  there 
will  be  a  secret  mission  sent  to  Russia.  Germany  and 
Austria  are  strong,  but  they  are  not  all  the  world.  With 
Russia  behind  and  France  and  England  westward,  the 
struggle  is  at  least  an  equal  one.  They  have  to  face  both 
directions,  they  have  to  face  two  great  armies  working 
from  the  east  and  from  the  west." 

She  nodded,  and  they  sat  there  in  silence  for  several 
moments.  Bellamy  was  thinking  deeply. 

"You  say,  Louise,"  he  asked,  looking  up  quickly, 
"that  your  rooms  have  been  searched.  When  was  this?" 

"  Only  last  night,"  she  replied. 


i8o  HAVOC 

Bellamy  drew  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"At  any  rate,"  he  said,  "Streuss  has  no  idea  that  the 
document  is  not  in  our  possession.  He  knows  nothing 
about  Laverick.  How  are  we  going  to  deal  with  him, 
Louise,  when  he  comes  for  his  answer?" 

"You  have  a  plan?"  she  asked. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done,"  Bellamy  de- 
clared. "I  shall  say  that  we  have  already  handed  over 
the  document  to  the  English  Government.  It  will  be  a 
bluff,  pure  and  simple.  He  may  believe  it  or  he  may 
not." 

"You  will  break  your  compact  then,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"I  shall  call  myself  justified,"  he  continued.  "He  has 
attempted  to  rob  us  of  the  document.  You  are  sure  of 
what  you  say  —  that  your  rooms  and  dressing-room  have 
been  searched?" 

"Absolutely  certain,"  she  declared. 

"That  will  be  sufficient,"  Bellamy  decided.  "If 
Streuss  comes  to  me,  I  shall  meet  him  frankly.  I  shall 
tell  him  that  he  has  tried  to  play  the  burglar  and  that  it 
must  be  war.  I  shall  tell  him  that  the  compact  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Prime  Minister,  and  that  he  and  his  spies 
had  better  clear  out." 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly. 

"Of  course,  you  understand,"  he  added,  "there  is  one 
thing  we  can  do,  and  one  thing  only.  We  must  send  a 
mission  to  Russia  and  another  to  France,  and  before  the 
German  fleet  can  pass  down  the  North  Sea  we  must  de- 
clare war.  It  is  the  only  thing  left  to  us  —  a  bold  front. 
Without  that  packet  we  have  no  casus  belli.  With  it, 
we  can  strike,  and  strike  hard.  I  still  believe  that  if  we 
declare  war  within  seven  days,  we  shall  save  ourselves." 


ACTIVITY    OF    AUSTRIAN    SPIES      181 

Streuss  and  Kahn  looked,  too,  across  the  panorama  of 
London,  across  the  dingy  Adelphi  Gardens,  the  turbid 
Thames,  the  smoke-hung  world  beyond.  They  were 
together  in  Streuss's  sitting-room  on  the  seventh  floor  of 
one  of  the  great  Strand  hotels. 

"  Our  enterprise  is  a  failure  ! "  Kahn  exclaimed  gloomily. 
"We  cannot  doubt  it  any  longer.  I  think,  Streuss,  that 
the  best  course  you  and  I  could  adopt  would  be  to  realize 
it  and  to  get  back.  We  do  no  good  here.  We  only  run 
needless  risks." 

The  face  of  the  other  man  was  dark  with  anger.  His 
tone,  when  he  spoke,  shook  with  passi6n. 

"You  don't  know  what  you  say,  Kahn!"  he  cried 
hoarsely.  "I  tell  you  that  we  must  succeed.  If  that 
document  reaches  the  hands  of  any  one  in  authority  here, 
it  would  be  the  worst  disaster  which  has  fallen  upon  our 
country  since  you  or  I  were  born.  You  don't  understand, 
Kahn  !  You  keep  your  eyes  closed  !" 

"  What  men  can  do  we  have  done,"  the  other  answered. 
"Von  Behrling  played  us  false.  He  has  died  a  traitor's 
death,  but  it  is  very  certain  that  he  parted  with  his  docu- 
ment before  he  received  that  twenty  thousand  pounds." 

"Once  and  for  all,  I  do  not  believe  it!"  Streuss  de- 
clared. "At  mid-day,  I  can  swear  to  it  that  the  contents 
of  that  envelope  were  unknown  to  the  Ministers  of  the 
King  here.  Now  if  Von  Behrling  had  parted  with  that 
document  last  Monday  night,  don't  you  suppose  that 
everything  would  be  known  by  now?  He  did  not  part 
with  it.  Bellamy  and  Mademoiselle  lie  when  they  say 
that  they  possess  it.  That  document  remains  in  the 
possession  of  Von  Behrling's  murderer,  and  it  is  for  us 
to  find  him." 

Kahn  sighed. 


182  HAVOC 

"  It  is  outside  our  sphere  —  that.  What  can  we  do 
against  the  police  of  this  country  working  in  their  own 
land?" 

Streuss  struck  the  table  before  which  they  were  stand- 
ing. The  veins  in  his  temples  were  like  whipcord. 

"Adolf,"  he  muttered,  "you  talk  like  a  fool!  Can't 
you  see  what  it  means?  If  that  document  reaches  its 
destination,  what  do  you  suppose  will  happen?" 

"They  will  know  our  plans,  of  course,"  Kahn  an- 
swered. "They  will  have  time  to  make  preparation." 

Streuss  laughed  bitterly. 

"Worse  than  that!"  he  exclaimed.  "They  are  not 
all  fools,  these  English  statesmen,  though  one  would 
think  so  to  read  their  speeches.  Can't  you  see  what  the 
result  would  be  if  that  document  reaches  Downing  Street  ? 
War  at  a  moment's  notice,  war  six  months  too  soon ! 
Don't  you  know  that  every  shipbuilding  yard  in  Germany 
is  working  night  and  day?  Don't  you  know  that  every 
nerve  is  being  strained,  that  the  muscles  of  the  country 
are  hammering  the  rivets  into  our  new  battleships  ?  There 
is  but  one  chance  for  this  country,  and  if  her  statesmen 
read  that  document  they  will  know  what  it  is.  It  is  open 
to  them  to  destroy  the  German  navy  utterly,  to  render 
themselves  secure  against  attack." 

"They  would  never  have  the  courage,"  Kahn  declared. 
"They  might  make  a  show  of  defending  themselves  if 
they  were  attacked,  but  to  take  the  initiative  —  no  !  I  do 
not  believe  it." 

"There  is  one  man  who  has  wit  enough  to  do  it," 
Streuss  said.  "He  may  not  be  in  the  Cabinet,  but  he 
commands  it.  Kahn,  wake  up,  man !  You  and  I  to- 
gether have  never  known  what  failure  means.  I  tell  you 
that  that  document  is  still  to  be  bought  or  fought  for, 


ACTIVITY    OF    AUSTRIAN    SPIES      183 

and  we  must  find  it.  This  morning  Mademoiselle  drove 
into  the  city  and  called  at  the  offices  of  a  stockbroker 
within  a  dozen  yards  of  Crooked  Friars'  Alley.  She  was 
there  a  long  time.  The  stockbroker  himself  came  out 
with  her  into  the  street,  took  her  to  see  the  entry,  stood 
with  her  there  and  returned.  What  was  her  interest  in 
him,  Kahn?  His  name  is  Laverick.  Four  days  ago  he 
was  on  the  brink  of  ruin.  To  the  amazement  of  every  one, 
he  met  all  his  engagements.  Why  did  Mademoiselle  go 
to  the  city  to  see  him  ?  He  was  at  his  office  late  that  Tues- 
day night.  He  had  a  partner  who  has  disappeared." 

Kahn  looked  at  his  companion  with  admiration. 

"You  have  found  all  this  out !"  he  exclaimed. 

"And  more,"  Streuss  declared.  "For  twenty-four 
hours,  this  man  Laverick  has  not  moved  without  my 
spies  at  his  heels." 

"Why  not  approach  him  boldly?"  Kahn  suggested. 
"If  he  has  the  document,  let  us  outbid  Mademoiselle 
Louise,  and  do  it  quickly." 

Streuss  shook  his  head. 

"You  don't  know  the  man.  He  is  an  Englishman, 
and  if  he  had  any  idea  what  that  document  contained, 
our  chances  of  buying  it  would  be  small  indeed.  This 
is  what  I  think  will  happen.  Mademoiselle  will  try  to 
obtain  it,  and  try  in  vain.  Then  Bellamy  will  tell  him 
the  truth,  and  he  will  part  with  it  willingly.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  believe  that  it  is  in  his  possession." 

"The  evidence  is  slender  enough,"  objected  Kahn. 

"What  if  it  is!"  Streuss  exclaimed.  "If  it  is  only  a 
hundred  to  one  chance,  we  have  to  take  it.  I  have  no  fancy 
for  disgrace,  Adolf,  and  I  know  very  well  what  will  happen 
if  we  go  back  empty-handed." 

The  telephone  bell  rang.    Streuss  took  off  the  receiver 


i84  HAVOC 

and  held  it  to  his  ear.  The  words  which  he  spoke  were 
few,  but  when  he  laid  the  instrument  down  there  was  a 
certain  amount  of  satisfaction  in  his  face. 

"At  any  rate,"  he  announced,  "this  man  Laverick  did 
not  part  with  the  document  to-day.  Mademoiselle  Louise 
and  Bellamy  have  been  sitting  in  the  Park  for  an  hour. 
When  they  separated,  she  drove  home  and  dropped  him 
at  his  club.  Up  till  now,  then,  they  have  not  the  docu- 
ment. We  shall  see  what  Mr.  Laverick  does  when  he 
leaves  business  this  evening;  if  he  goes  straight  home, 
either  the  document  has  never  been  in  his  possession,  or 
else  it  is  in  the  safe  in  his  office ;  if  he  goes  to  Mademoiselle 
Idiale's  —  " 

"Well?"  Kahn  asked  eagerly. 

"  If  he  goes  to  Mademoiselle  Idiale's,"  Streuss  repeated 
slowly,  "  there  is  still  a  chance  for  us ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

LAVERICK    AT    THE    OPEEA 

LAVERICK,  in  presenting  his  card  at  the  box  office  at 
Covent  Garden  that  evening,  did  so  without  the  slightest 
misconception  of  the  reasons  which  had  prompted  Made- 
moiselle Idiale  to  beg  him  to  become  her  guest.  It  was 
sheer  curiosity  which  prompted  him  to  pursue  this  adven- 
ture. He  was  perfectly  convinced  that  personally  he  had 
no  interest  for  her.  In  some  way  or  other  he  had  become 
connected  in  her  mind  with  the  murder  which  had  taken 
place  within  a  few  yards  of  hh  office,  and  in  some  other 
equally  mysterious  manner  that  murder  had  become  a 
subject  of  interest  to  her.  Either  that,  or  this  was  one  of 
the  whims  of  a  spoiled  and  pleasure-surfeited  woman. 

He  found  an  excellent  box  reserved  for  him,  and  a 
measure  of  courtesy  from  the  attendants  not  often  vouch- 
safed to  an  ordinary  visitor.  The  opera  was  Samson  and 
Delilahy  and  even  before  her  wonderful  voice  thrilled  the 
house,  it  seemed  to  Laverick  that  no  person  more  lovely 
than  the  woman  he  had  come  to  see  had  ever  moved  upon 
any  stage.  It  appeared  impossible  that  movement  so 
graceful  and  passionate  should  remain  so  absolutely 
effortless.  There  seemed  to  be  some  strange  power  inside 
the  woman.  Surely  her  will  guided  her  feet !  The  neces- 
sity for  physical  effort  never  once  appeared.  Notwith- 
standing the  slight  prejudice  which  he  had  felt  against 
her,  it  was  impossible  to  keep  his  admiration  altogether 
in  check.  The  fascination  of  her  wonderful  presence* 


186  HAVOC 

and  then  her  glorious  voice,  moved  him  with  the  rest  of 
the  audience.  He  clapped  as  the  others  did  at  the  end 
t)f  the  first  act,  and  he  leaned  forward  just  as  eagerly  to 
•catch  a  glimpse  of  her  when  she  reappeared  and  stood 
there  with  that  marvelous  smile  upon  her  lips,  accepting 
\vith  faint,  deprecating  gratitude  the  homage  of  the 
packed  house. 

Just  before  the  curtain  rose  upon  the  second  act,  there 
was  a  knock  at  his  box  door.  One  of  the  attendants 
ushered  in  a  short  man  of  somewhat  remarkable  person- 
ality. He  was  barely  five  feet  in  height,  and  an  extremely 
fat  neck  and  a  corpulent  body  gave  him  almost  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  hunchback.  He  had  black,  beady  eyes,  a 
black  moustache  fiercely  turned  up,  and  sallow  skin. 
His  white  gloves  had  curious  stitchings  on  the  back  not 
common  in  England,  and  his  silk  hat,  exceedingly  glossy, 
had  wider  brims  than  are  usually  associated  with  Bond 
Street. 

Laverick  half  rose,  but  the  little  man  spread  out  one 
hand  and  commenced  to  speak.  His  accent  was  foreign, 
but,  if  not  an  Englishman,  he  at  any  rate  spoke  the  language 
with  confidence. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  began,  "  I  owe  you  many  apologies. 
It  was  Mademoiselle  Idiale's  wish  that  I  should  make 
your  acquaintance.  My  name  is  Lassen.  I  have  the 
fortune  to  be  Mademoiselle's  business  manager." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Lassen,"  said  La- 
verick. "Will  you  sit  down?" 

Mr.  Lassen  thereupon  hung  his  hat  upon  a  peg,  removed 
his  overcoat,  straightened  his  white  tie  with  the  aid  of  a 
looking-glass,  brushed  back  his  glossy  black  hair  with 
the  palms  of  his  hands,  and  took  the  seat  opposite  Laverick. 
His  first  question  was  inevitable. 


LAVERICK    AT    THE    OPERA         187 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  opera,  sir?" 

"It  is  like  Mademoiselle  Idiale  herself,*'  Laverick 
answered.  "  It  is  above  criticism." 

"  She  is,"  Mr.  Lassen  said  firmly,  "  the  loveliest  woman 
in  Europe  and  her  voice  is  the  most  wonderful.  It  is  a 
great  combination,  this.  I  myself  have  managed  for 
many  stars,  I  have  brought  to  England  most  of  those 
whose  names  are  known  during  the  last  ten  years;  but 
there  has  never  been  another  Louise  Idiale,  —  never  will 
be." 

'  I  can  believe  it,"  Laverick  admitted. 

She  has  wonderful  qualities,  too,"  continued  Mr. 
Lassen.  "Your  acquaintance  with  her,  I  believe,  sir,  is 
of  the  shortest." 

"That  is  so,"  Laverick  answered,  a  little  coldly.  He 
was  not  particularly  taken  with  his  visitor. 

"Mademoiselle  has  spoken  to  me  of  you,"  the  latter 
proceeded.  "She  desired  that  I  should  pay  my  respects 
during  the  performance." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  Laverick  answered.  "As  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  is  exceedingly  kind,  also,  of  Made- 
moiselle Idiale  to  insist  upon  my  coming  here  to-night. 
She  did  me  the  honor,  as  you  may  know,  of  paying  me  a 
visit  in  the  city  this  morning." 

"So  she  did 'tell  me,"  Mr.  Lassen  declared.  "Made- 
moiselle is  a  great  woman  of  business.  Most  of  her  in- 
vestments she  controls  herself.  She  has  whims,  how- 
ever, and  it  never  does  to  contradict  her.  She  has 
also,  curiously  enough,  a  preference  for  the  men  of 
affairs." 

Laverick  had  reached  that  stage  when  he  felt  indis- 
posed to  discuss  Mademoiselle  any  longer  with  a  stranger, 
even  though  that  stranger  should  be  her  manager.  He 


i88  HAVOC 

nodded  and  took  up  his  programme.  As  he  did  so,  the 
curtain  rang  up  upon  the  next  act.  Laverick  turned 
deliberately  towards  the  stage.  The  little  man  had  paid 
his  respects,  as  he  put  it.  Laverick  felt  disinclined  for 
further  conversation  with  him.  Yet,  though  his  head 
was  turned,  he  knew  very  well  that  his  companion's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him.  He  had  an  uncomfortable  sense 
that  he  was  an  object  of  more  than  ordinary  interest  to 
this  visitor,  that  he  had  come  for  some  specific  object 
which  as  yet  he  had  not  declared. 

"You  will  like  to  go  round  and  see  Mademoiselle   ' 
the  latter  remarked,  some  time  afterwards. 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"I  shall  find  another  opportunity,  I  hope,  to  congratu- 
late her." 

"But,  my  dear  sir,  she  expects  to  see  you,"  Mr.  Lassen 
protested.  "You  are  here  at  her  invitation.  It  is  usual, 
I  can  assure  you." 

"  Mademoiselle  Idiale  will  perhaps  excuse  me,"  Laver- 
ick said.  "I  have  an  engagement  immediately  after  the 
performance  is  over." 

His  companion  muttered  something  which  Laverick 
could  not  catch,  and  made  some  excuse  to  leave  the  box 
a  few  minutes  later.  When  he  returned,  he  carried  a 
little  note  which  he  presented  to  Laverick  with  an  air 
of  triumph. 

"It  is  as  I  said!':  he  exclaimed.  "Mademoiselle 
expects  you." 

Laverick  read  the  few  lines  which  she  had  written. 

I  wish  to  see  you  after  the  performance.  If  you  cannot  come 
round  or  escort  me  yourself,  will  you  come  later  to  the  restau- 
rant of  Luigi,  where,  as  always,  I  shall  sup.  Do  not  fail. 

LOUISE  IDIALE. 


i8g 

Laverick  placed  the  note  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  with- 
out immediate  remark.  Later  on  he  turned  to  his  com- 
panion. 

"Will  you  tell  Mademoiselle  Idiale,"  he  said,  "that  I 
will  do  myself  the  honor  of  coming  to  her  at  Luigi's 
Restaurant.  I  have  an  engagement  after  the  performance 
which  I  must  keep." 

"You  will  certainly  come?"   Lassen  asked  anxiously. 

"Without  a  doubt,"  Laverick  promised. 

Mr.  Lassen  took  up  his  hat. 

"  I  will  go  and  tell  Mademoiselle.  For  some  reason  or 
other  she  seemed  particularly  desirous  of  seeing  you  this 
evening.  She  has  her  whims,  and  those  who  have  most 
to  do  with  her,  like  myself,  find  it  well  to  keep  them 
gratified.  If  I  do  not  see  you  again,  sir,  permit  me  to  wish 
you  good  evening." 

He  disappeared  with  several  bows  of  his  pudgy  little 
person,  and  Laverick  was  left  with  another  puzzle  to 
solve.  He  was  not  in  the  least  conceited,  and  he  did  not 
for  a  moment  misinterpret  this  woman's  interest  in  him. 
Her  invitation,  he  knew  very  well,  was  one  which  half 
London  would  have  coveted.  Yet  it  meant  nothing  per- 
sonal, he  was  sure  of  that.  It  simply  meant  that  for  some 
mysterious  reason,  the  same  reason  which  had  prompted 
her  to  visit  him  in  the  city  he  was  of  interest  to 
her. 

At  a  few  minutes  before  eleven  Laverick  left  the  place 
and  drove  to  the  stage-door  of  the  Universal  Theatre. 
Zoe  came  out  among  the  first  and  paused  upon  the  thresh- 
old, looking  up  and  down  the  street  eagerly.  When  she 
recognized  him,  her  smile  was  heavenly. 

"Oh,  how  nice  of  you!"  she  exclaimed,  stepp'ng  at 
once  into  his  taxicab.  "You  don't  know  how  different 


igo  HAVOC 

it  feels  to  hope  that  there  is  some  one  waiting  for  you  and 
then  to  find  your  hope  come  true.  To-night  I  was  not 
sure.  You  had  said  nothing  about  it,  and  yet  I  could  not 
help  believing  that  you  would  be  here." 

"I  was  hoping,"  he  said,  "that  we  might  have  another 
supper  together.  Unfortunately,  I  have  an  engagement." 

"An  engagement?"   she  repeated,  her  face  falling. 

Laverick  loved  the  truth  and  he  seldom  hesitated  to 
tell  it. 

"It  is  rather  an  odd  thing,"  he  declared.  "You  re- 
member that  woman  at  Luigi's  last  night  —  Mademoiselle 
Idiale?" 

"Of  course." 

"  She  came  to  my  office  to-day  and  gave  me  six  thousand 
pounds  to  invest  for  her.  She  made  me  take  her  out  and 
show  her  where  the  murder  was  committed,  and  asked  a 
great  many  questions  about  it.  Then  she  insisted  that  I 
should  go  and  hear  her  sing  this  evening,  and  I  find  that 
I  was  expected  to  take  her  on  to  supper  afterwards.  I 
excused  myself  for  a  little  while,  but  I  have  promised  to 
go  to  Luigi's,  where  she  will  be." 

The  girl  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Where  are  we  going  now,  then?"   she  asked. 

"Wherever  you  like.  I  can  take  you  home  first,  or  I 
can  leave  you  anywhere." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  piteous  little  smile. 

"The  last  two  nights  you  have  spoiled  me,"  she  said. 
"I  have  so  many  evil  thoughts  and  I  am  afraid  to  go 
home." 

"I  am  sorry.  If  I  could  think  of  anything  or  any- 
where —  " 

"No,  you  must  take  me  home,  please,"  said  she.  "It 
was  selfish  of  me.  Only  Mademoiselle  Idiale  is  such  a 


LAVERICK    AT    THE    OPERA         191 

wonderful  person.  Do  you  think  that  she  will  want  you 
every  night?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  he  laughed.  "  Come,  I  will  make  an 
engagement  with  you.  We  will  have  supper  together 
to-morrow  evening." 

She  brightened  up  at  once. 

"I  wonder,"  she  asked  timidly,  a  few  minutes  after- 
wards, "have  you  heard  anything  from  Arthur?  He 
promised  to  send  a  telegram  from  Queenstown." 

Laverick  shook  his  head.  He  said  nothing  about  the 
marconigram  he  had  sent,  or  the  answer  which  he  had 
received  informing  him  that  there  was  no  such  person  OD 
board.  It  seemed  scarcely  worth  while  to  worry  her. 

"I  have  heard  nothing,"  he  replied.  "Of  course,  he 
must  be  half-way  to  America  by  now." 

"There  have  been  no  more  inquiries  about  him?" 
she  asked. 

"  No  more  than  the  usual  ones  from  his  friends,  and  a 
few  creditors.  The  latter  I  am  paying  as  they  come.  But 
there  is  one  thing  you  ought  to  do  with  me.  I  think  we 
ought  to  go  to  his  rooms  and  lock  up  his  papers  and 
letters.  He  never  even  went  back,  you  know,  after  that 
night." 

She  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"When  would  you  like  to  do  this?" 

"I  am  so  busy  just  now  that  I  am  afraid  I  can  spare 
no  time  until  Monday  afternoon.  Would  you  go  with 
me  then?" 

"  Of  course.  My  time  is  my  own.  We  have  no  matinee, 
and  I  have  nothing  to  do  except  in  the  evening." 

They  had  reached  her  home.  It  looked  very  dark  and 
very  uninviting.  She  shivered  as  she  took  her  latchkey 
from  the  bag  which  she  was  carrying. 


ig2  HAVOC 

"  Come  in  with  me,  please,  while  I  light  the  gas,"  she 
begged.  "It  looks  so  dreary,  does  n't  it?" 

"You  ought  to  have  some  one  with  you,"  he  declared, 
"especially  in  a  part  like  this." 

"Oh,  I  am  not  really  afraid,"  she  answered.  "I  am 
only  lonely." 

He  stood  in  the  passage  while  she  felt  for  a  box  of 
matches  and  lit  the  gas  jet.  In  the  parlor  there  was  a 
bowl  of  milk  standing  waiting  for  her,  and  some  bread. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  she  said.  "  Now  I  am  going  to 
make  up  the  fire  and  read  for  a  short  time.  I  hope  that 
you  will  enjoy  your  supper — well,  moderately,"  she 
added,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"I  can  promise  you,"  he  answered,  "that  I  shall  enjoy 
it  no  more  than  last  night's  or  to-morrow  night's." 

She  sighed. 

"Poor  little  me!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  is  not  fair 
to  have  to  compete  with  Mademoiselle  Idiale.  Good 
night!" 

Something  he  saw  in  her  eyes  moved  him  strangely  as 
he  turned  away. 

"Would  you  like  me,"  he  asked  hesitatingly,  "suppos- 
ing I  get  away  early  —  would  you  like  me  to  come  in  and 
say  good  night  to  you  later  on?" 

Her  face  was  suddenly  flushed  with  joy. 

*  Oh,  do  ! "  she  begged.     "  Do  ! " 

He  turned  away  with  a  smile. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "Don't  shut  up  just  yet  and  I 
will  try." 

"  I  shall  stay  here  until  three  o'clock,"  she  declared,  — 
"until  four,  even.  You  must  come.  Remember,  you 
must  come.  See." 

She  held  out  to  him  her  key. 


LAVERICK    AT    THE    OPERA          193 

"  I  can  knock  at  the  door,"  he  protested.  "  You  would 
hear  me." 

"  But  I  might  fall  asleep,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  afraid. 
If  you  have  the  key,  I  am  sure  that  you  will  come." 

He  put  it  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  with  a  laugh. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "if  it  is  only  for  five  minutes,  I 
will  come." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A    SUPPER    PARTY    AT    LUIGl's 

LAVERICK  walked  into  Luigi's  Restaurant  at  about  a 
quarter  to  twelve,  and  found  the  place  crowded  with 
many  little  supper-parties  on  their  way  to  a  fancy  dress 
ball.  The  demand  for  tables  was  far  in  excess  of  the  sup- 
ply, but  he  had  scarcely  shown  himself  before  the  head 
maitre  d'hotel  came  hurrying  up. 

"Mademoiselle  Idiale  is  waiting  for  you,  sir,"  he  an- 
nounced at  once.  "Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  come  this 
way?" 

Laverick  followed  him.  She  was  sitting  at  the  same 
table  as  last  night,  but  she  was  alone,  and  it  was  laid,  he 
noticed  with  surprise,  only  for  two. 

"You  have  treated  me,"  she  said,  as  she  held  out  her 
fingers,  "  to  a  new  sensation.  I  have  waited  for  you  alone 
here  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  —  I !  Such  a  thing  has 
never  happened  to  me  before." 

"You  do  me  too  much  honor,"  Laverick  declared,  seat- 
ing himself  and  taking  up  the  carte. 

"Then,  too,"  she  continued,  "I  sup  alone  with  you. 
That  is  what  I  seldom  do  with  any  man.  Not  that  I  care 
for  the  appearance,"  she  added,  with  a  contemptuous 
wave  of  the  hand.  "Nothing  troubles  me  less.  It  is 
simply  that  one  man  alone  wearies  me.  Almost  always 
he  will  make  love,  and  that  I  do  not  like.  You,  Mr. 
Laverick,  I  am  not  afraid  of.  I  do  not  think  that  you  will 
make  love  to  me." 


A    SUPPER    PARTY    AT    LUIGI'S        195 

"Any  intentions  I  may  have  had,"  Laverick  remarked, 
with  a  sigh,  "I  forthwith  banish.  You  ask  a  hard  task 
of  your  cavaliers,  though,  Mademoiselle." 

She  smiled  and  looked  at  him  from  under  her  eyelids. 

"Not  of  you,  I  fancy,  Mr.  Laverick,"  she  said.  "I  do 
not  think  that  you  are  one  of  those  who  make  love  to 
every  woman  because  she  is  good-looking  or  famous." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  Laverick  admitted,  "I  find  it 
hard  to  make  love  to  any  one.  I  often  feel  the  most  pro- 
found admiration  for  individual  members  of  your  sex, 
but  to  express  one's  self  is  difficult  —  sometimes  it  is  even 
embarrassing.  For  supper?" 

"It  is  ordered,"  she  declared.    "You  are  my  guest." 

"  Impossible  !"  Laverick  asserted  firmly.  "  I  have  been 
your  guest  at  the  Opera.  You  at  least  owe  me  the  honor 
of  being  mine  for  supper." 

She  frowned  a  little.  She  was  obviously  unused  to 
being  contradicted 

"I  sup  with  you,  then,  another  night,"  she  insisted. 
"  No,"  she  continued,  "  if  you  are  going  to  look  like  that, 
I  take  it  back.  I  sup  with  you  to-night.  This  is  an  ill 
omen  for  our  future  acquaintance.  I  have  given  in  to 
you  already  —  I,  who  give  in  to  no  man.  Give  me  some 
champagne,  please." 

Laverick  took  the  bottle  from  the  ice-pail  by  his  side, 
but  the  sommelier  darted  forward  and  served  them. 

"  I  drink  to  our  better  understanding  of  one  another, 
Mr.  Laverick,"  she  said,  raising  her  glass,  "and,  if  you 
would  like  a  double  toast,  I  drink  also  to  the  early  grati- 
fication of  the  curiosity  which  is  consuming  you." 

"The  curiosity?" 

"Yes!  You  are  wondering  all  the  time  why  it  is  that 
I  chose  last  night  to  send  and  have  you  presented  to  me, 


ig6  HAVOC 

why  I  came  to  your  office  in  the  city  to-day  with  the  ex- 
cuse of  investing  money  with  you,  why  I  invited  you  to 
the  Opera  to-night,  why  I  commanded  you  to  supper 
here  and  am  supping  with  you  alone.  Now  confess  the 
truth;  you  are  full  of  curiosity,  is  it  not  so?" 

"Frankly,  I  am." 

She  smiled  good-humoredly. 

"I  knew  it  quite  well.  You  are  not  conceited.  You 
do  not  believe,  as  so  many  men  would,  that  I  have  fallen 
in  love  with  you.  You  think  that  there  must  be  some 
object,  and  you  ask  yourself  all, the  time,  'What  is  it?' 
In  your  heart,  Mr.  Laverick,  I  wonder  whether  you  have 
any  idea." 

Her  voice  had  fallen  almost  to  a  whisper.  She  looked 
at  him  with  a  suggestion  of  stealthiness  from  under  her 
eyelids,  a  look  which  only  needed  the  slightest  softening 
of  her  face  to  have  made  it  something  almost  irresistible. 

"I  can  assure  you,"  Laverick  said  firmly,  "that  I  have 
no  idea." 

"Do  you  remember  almost  my  first  question  to  you?" 
she  asked. 

"It  was  about  the  murder.  You  seemed  interested  in 
the  fact  that  my  office  was  within  a  few  yards  of  the  pas- 
sage where  it  occurred." 

"  Quite  right,"  she  admitted.  "  I  see  that  your  memory 
is  very  good.  There,  then,  Mr.  Laverick,  you  have  the 
secret  of  my  desire  to  meet  you." 

Laverick  drank  his  wine  slowly.  The  woman  knew ! 
Impossible !  Her  eyes  were  watching  his  face,  but  he 
held  himself  bravely.  What  could  she  know  ?  How  could 
she  guess? 

"Frankly,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  understand.  Your 
interest  in  me  arises  from  the  fact  that  my  offices  are  near 


197 

the  scene  of  that  murder.  Well,  to  begin  with,  what 
concern  have  you  in  that?" 

"  The  murdered  man,"  she  declared  thoughtfully,  "  was 
an  acquaintance  of  mine." 

"An  acquaintance  of  yours!"  Laverick  exclaimed. 
"Why,  he  has  not  been  identified.  No  one  knows  who 
he  was." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  very  slightly. 

''Mr.  Laverick,"  she  murmured,  "the  newspapers  do 
not  tell  you  everything.  I  repeat  that  the  murdered  man 
was  an  acquaintance  of  mine.  Only  three  days  ago  I 
traveled  part  of  the  way  from  Vienna  with  him." 

Laverick  was  intensely  interested. 

"You  could,  perhaps,  throw  some  light,  then,  upon 
his  death?" 

"  Perhaps  I  could,"  she  answered.  "  I  can  tell  you  one 
thing,  at  any  rate,  Mr.  Laverick,  if  it  is  news  to  you.  At 
the  time  when  he  was  murdered,  he  was  carrying  a  very 
large  sum  of  money  with  him.  This  is  a  fact  which  has 
not  been  spoken  of  in  the  Press." 

Once  again  Laverick  was  thankful  for  those  nerves  of 
his.  He  sat  quite  still.  His  face  exhibited  nothing  more 
than  the  blank  amazement  which  he  certainly  felt. 

"This  is  marvelous,"  he  said.  "Have  you  told  the 
police  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,"  she  answered.  "  I  wish,  if  I  can,  to  avoid 
telling  the  police." 

"But  the  money?    To  whom  did  it  belong?" 

"Not  to  the  murdered  man." 

"To  any  one  whom  you  know  of?"   he  inquired. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
"whether  I  am  telling  you  too  much." 

"You  are  telling  me  a  good  deal,"  he  admitted  frankly. 


ig8  HAVOC 

"I  wonder  how  far,"  she  asked,  "you  will  be  inclined 
to  reciprocate?" 

"I  reciprocate!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  what  can  I  do? 
What  do  I  know  of  these  things?" 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  lazily,  and  drew  towards 
her  a  wonderful  gold  purse  set  with  emeralds.  Carefully 
opening  it,  she  drew  from  the  interior  a  small  flat  pocket- 
book,  also  of  gold,  with  a  great  uncut  emerald  set  into  its 
centre.  This,  too,  she  opened,  and  drew  out  several 
sheets  of  foreign  note-paper  pinned  together  at  the  top. 
These  she  glanced  through  until  she  came  to  the  third 
or  fourth.  Then  she  bent  it  down  and  passed  it  across 
the  table  to  Laverick. 

"  You  may  read  that,"  she  sa;d.  "  It  is  part  of  a  report 
which  I  have  had  in  my  possession  since  Wednesday 
morning." 

Laverick  drew  the  sheet  towards  him  and  read,  in  thin, 
angular  characters,  very  distinct  and  plain: 

Some  ten  minutes  after  the  assault,  a  policeman  passed  down 
the  street  but  did  not  glance  toward  the  passage.  The  next 
person  to  appear  was  a  gentleman  who  left  some  offices  on  the 
same  side  as  the  passage,  and  walked  down  evidently  on  his 
homeward  way.  He  glanced  up  the  passage  and  saw  the  body 
lying  there.  He  disappeared  for  a  moment  and  struck  a 
match.  A  minute  afterwards  he  emerged  from  the  passage, 
looked  up  and  down  the  street,  and  finding  it  empty  returned 
to  the  office  from  which  he  had  issued,  let  himself  in  with  his 
latchkey,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  He  was  there  for 
about  ten  minutes.  When  he  reappeared,  he  walked  quickly 
down  the  street  and  for  obvious  reasons  I  was  unable  to  follow 
him. 

The  address  of  the  offices  which  he  left  and  re-entered  was 
Messrs.  Laverick  &  Morrison,  Stockbrokers. 


A    SUPPER    PARTY    AT    LUIGI'S        199 

"That  interests  you,  Mr.  Laverick?"  she  asked 
softly. 

He  handed  it  back  to  her. 

"  It  interests  me  very  much,"  he  answered.  "  Who  was 
this  unseen  person  who  wrote  from  the  clouds?" 

"  I  may  not  tell  you  all  my  secrets,  Mr.  Laverick,"  she 
declared.  "What  have  you  done  with  that  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds?" 

Laverick  helped  himself  to  champagne.  He  listened 
for  a  moment  to  the  music,  and  looked  into  the  wonderful 
eyes  which  shone  from  that  beautiful  face  a  few  feet  away. 
Her  lips  were  slightly  parted,  her  forehead  wrinkled. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  accuser  in  her  countenance;  a 
gentle  irony  was  its  most  poignant  expression. 

"Is  this  a  fairy  tale,  Mademoiselle  Idiale?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  It  might  seem  so,"  she  answered.  "  Sometimes  I 
think  that  all  the  time  we  live  two  lives,  —  the  life  of 
which  the  world  sees  the  outside,  and  the  life  inside  of 
which  no  one  save  ourselves  knows  anything  at  all.  Look, 
for  instance,  at  all  these  people  —  these  chorus  girls  and 
young  men  about  town  —  the  older  ones,  too  —  all  hungry 
for  pleasure,  all  drinking  at  the  cup  of  life  as  though  they 
had  indeed  but  to-day  and  to-morrow  in  which  to  live 
and  enjoy.  Have  they  no  shadows,  too,  no  secrets  ?  They 
seem  so  harmless,  yet  if  the  great  white  truth  shone  down, 
might  one  not  find  a  murderer  there,  a  dying  man  who 
knew  his  terrible  secret,  yonder  a  Croesus  on  the  verge 
of  bankruptcy,  a  strong  man  playing  with  dishonor  ?  But 
those  are  the  things  of  the  other  world  which  we  do  not 

O 

see.  The  men  look  at  us  to-night  and  they  envy  you  be- 
cause you  are  with  me.  The  women  envy  me  more  because 
I  have  emeralds  upon  my  neck  and  shoulders  for  which 


200  HAVOC 

they  would  give  their  souls,  and  a  fame  throughout  Europe 
which  would  turn  their  foolish  heads  in  a  very  few  minutes. 
But  they  do  not  know.  There  are  the  shadows  across  my 
path,  and  I  think  that  there  are  the  shadows  across  yours. 
What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Laverick?" 

He  looked  at  her,  curiously  moved.  Now  at  last  he 
began  to  believe  that  it  was  true  what  they  said  of  her, 
that  she  was  indeed  a  marvelous  woman.  She  had  a 
fame  which  would  have  contented  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  women  out  of  a  thousand.  She  had  beauty, 
and,  more  wonderful  still,  the  grace,  the  fascination 
which  are  irresistible.  She  had  but  to  lift  a  finger  and 
there  were  few  who  would  not  kneel  to  do  her  bid- 
ding. And  yet,  behind  it  all  there  were  other  things  in 
her  life.  Had  she  sought  them,  or  had  they  come  to 
her? 

"You  are  one  of  those  wise  people,  Mr.  Laverick," 
she  said,  "who  realize  the  danger  of  words.  You  believe 
in  silence.  Well,  silence  is  often  good.  You  do  not  choose 
to  admit  anything." 

"  What  is  there  for  me  to  admit  ?  Do  you  want  to  know 
whether  I  am  the  man  who  left  those  offices,  who  disap- 
peared into  the  passage,  who  reappeared  again  - 

"With  a  pocket-book  containing  twenty  thousand 
pounds,"  she  murmured  across  the  flowers. 

"At  least  tell  me  this?"  he  demanded.  "Was  the 
money  yours?" 

"I  am  not  like  you,"  she  replied.  "I  have  talked  a 
great  deal  and  I  have  reached  the  limit  of  the  things 
which  I  may  tell  you." 

"But  where  are  we?"  he  asked.  "Are  you  seri- 
ously accusing  me  of  having  robbed  this  murdered 
man?" 


A    SUPPER    PARTY    AT    LUIGI'S        201 

"Be  thankful,"  she  declared,  "that  I  am  not  accusing 
you  of  having  murdered  him." 

"But  seriously,"  he  insisted,  "am  I  on  my  defence  — 
have  I  to  account  for  my  movements  that  night  as  against 
the  written  word  of  your  mysterious  informant?  Is  it 
you  who  are  charging  me  with  being  a  thief  ?  Is  it  to  you 
I  am  to  account  for  my  actions,  to  defend  myself  or  to 
plead  guilty?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "I  have  said  almost  my  last 
word  to  you  upon  this  subject.  All  that  I  have  to  ask  of 
you  is  this.  If  that  pocket-book  is  in  your  possession, 
empty  it  first  of  its  contents,  then  go  over  it  carefully  with 
your  fingers  and  see  if  there  is  not  a  secret  pocket.  If 
you  discover  that,  I  think  that  you  will  find  in  it  a  sealed 
document.  If  you  find  that  document,  you  must  bring  it 
to  me." 

The  lights  went  down.  The  voice  of  the  waiter  mur- 
mured something  in  his  ears. 

"It  is  after  hours,"  Mademoiselle  Idiale  said,  "but 
Luigi  does  not  wish  to  disturb  us.  Still,  perhaps  we  had 
better  go." 

They  passed  down  the  room.  To  Laverick  it  was  all 
like  a  dream  — the  laughing  crowd,  the  flushed  men  and 
bright-eyed  women,  the  lowered  lights,  the  air  of  vol- 
uptuousness which  somehow  seemed  to  have  enfolded  the 
place.  In  the  hall  her  maid  came  up.  A  small  motor- 
brougham,  with  two  servants  on  the  box,  was  standing 
at  the  doorway.  Mademoiselle  turned  suddenly  and  gave 
him  her  hand. 

"Our  supper-party,  I  think,  Mr.  Laverick,"  she  said, 
"  has  been  quite  a  success.  We  shall  before  long,  I  hope, 
meet  again." 


202  HAVOC 

He  handed  her  into  the  carriage.  Her  maid  walked 
with  them.  The  footman  stood  erect  by  his  side.  There 
were  no  further  words  to  be  spoken.  A  little  crowd  in  the 
doorway  envied  him  as  he  stood  bareheaded  upon  the 
pavement. 


- 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JIM  SHEPHERD'S  SCARE 

IT  was,  in  its  way,  a  pathetic  sight  upon  which  Laverick 
gazed  when  he  stole  into  that  shabby  little  sitting-room. 
Zoe  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  small,  uncomfortable  easy-chair 
with  its  back  to  the  window.  Her  supper  of  bread  and 
milk  was  half  finished,  her  hat  lay  upon  the  table.  A 
book  was  upon  her  lap  as  though  she  had  started  to  read 
only  to  find  it  slip  through  her  fingers.  He  stood  with 
his  elbow  upon  the  mantelpiece,  looking  down  at  her. 
Her  eyelashes,  long  and  silky,  were  more  beautiful  than 
ever  now  that  her  eyes  were  closed.  Her  complexion, 
pale  though  she  was,  seemed  more  the  creamy  pallor  of 
some  southern  race  than  the  whiteness  of  ill-health.  The 
bodice  of  her  dress  was  open  a  few  inches  at  the  neck, 
showing  the  faint  white  smoothness  of  her  flawless  skin. 
Not  even  her  shabby  shoes  could  conceal  the  perfect  shape 
of  her  feet  and  ankles.  Once  more  he  remembered  his 
first  simile,  his  first  thought  of  her.  She  seemed,  indeed, 
like  some  dainty  statuette,  uncouthly  clad,  who  had  strayed 
from  a  world  of  her  own  upon  rough  days  and  found  her- 
self ill-equipped  indeed  for  the  struggle.  His  heart  grew 
hot  with  anger  against  Morrison  as  he  stood  and  watched 
her.  Supposing  she  had  been  different !  It  would  have 
been  his  fault,  leaving  her  alone  to  battle  her  way  through 
the  most  difficult  of  all  lives.  Brute ! 

He  had  muttered  the  word  half  aloud  and  she  suddenly 
opened  her  eyes.  At  first  she  seemed  bewildered.  Then 
she  smiled  and  sat  up. 


204  HAVOC 

"I  have  been  asleep  !"   she  exclaimed. 

"A  most  unnecessary  statement,"  he  answered,  smiling. 
*'  I  have  been  standing  looking  at  you  for  five  minutes  at 
least." 

"  How  fortunate  that  I  gave  you  the  key  !"  she  declared. 
"I  don't  suppose  I  should  ever  have  heard  you.  Now 
please  stand  there  in  the  light  and  let  me  look  at  you." 

"Why?" 

"I  want  to  look  at  a  man  who  has  had  supper  with 
Mademoiselle  Idiale." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Am  I  supposed  to  be  a  wanderer  out  of  Paradise, 
then?" 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully. 

"They  tell  strange  stories  about  her,"  she  said;  "but 
oh,  she  is  so  beautiful !  If  I  were  a  man,  I  should  fall  in 
love  with  her  if  she  even  looked  my  way." 

"Then  I  am  glad,"  he  answered,  "that  I  am  less  im- 
pressionable." 

"And  you  are  not  in  love  with  her?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"Why  should  I  be?"  he  laughed.  "She  is  like  a 
wonderful  picture,  a  marvelous  statue,  if  you  will.  Every- 
thing about  her  is  faultless.  But  one  looks  at  these 
things  calmly  enough,  you  know.  It  is  life  which  stirs 
life." 

"Do  you  think  that  there  is  no  life  in  her  veins,  then?" 
Zoe  asked. 

"  If  there  is,"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  think  that  I  am 
the  man  to  stir  it." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh  of  content. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "you  are  my  first  admirer,  and  I 
have  n't  the  least  desire  to  let  you  go." 

"Incredible!"  he  declared. 


JIM    SHEPHERD'S    SCARE  205 

"But  it  is  true,"  she  answered  earnestly.  "You  would 
not  have  me  talk  to  these  boys  who  come  and  hang  on  at 
the  stage-door.  The  men  to  whom  I  have  been  introduced 
by  the  other  girls  have  been  very  few,  and  they  have  not 
been  very  nice,  and  they  have  not  cared  for  me  and  I  have 
not  cared  for  them.  I  think,"  she  said,  disconsolately, 
"I  am  too  small.  Ever}7  one  to-day  seems  to  like  big 
women.  Cora  Sinclair,  who  is  just  behind  me  in  the 
chorus,  gets  bouquets  every  night,  and  simply  chooses 
with  whom  she  should  go  out  to  supper." 

Laverick  looked  grave. 

"You  are  not  envying  her?"    he  asked. 

"Not  in  the  least,  as  long  as  I  too  am  taken  out  some- 
times." 

Laverick  smiled  and  sat  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"Miss  Zoe,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  because  you  told 
me  to,  just  to  prove,  you  see,  that  I  am  not  in  the  toils 
of  Mademoiselle  Idiale.  But  do  you  know  that  it  is  half- 
past  one  ?  I  must  not  stay  here  any  longer." 

She  sighed  once  more. 

"You  are  right,"  she  admitted,  "but  it  is  so  lonely. 
I  have  never  been  here  without  May  and  her  mother.  I 
have  never  slept  alone  in  the  house  before  the  other  night. 
If  I  had  known  that  they  were  going  away,  I  should  never 
have  dared  to  come  here." 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  he  declared.  "  Could  n't  you  get  one 
of  the  other  girls  to  stay  writh  you  ?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"There  are  one  or  two  whom  I  would  like  to  have," 
she  said,  "but  they  are  all  living  either  at  home  or  with 
relatives.  The  others  I  am  afraid  about.  They  seem  to 
like  to  sit  up  so  late  and  —  " 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  interrupted  hastily,  -  "  quite 


206  HAVOC 

right.  You  are  better  alone.  But  you  ought  to  have  a 
servant." 

She  laughed. 

"On  two  pounds  fifteen  a  week?"  she  asked.  "You 
must  remember  that  I  could  not  even  live  here,  only  I 
have  practically  no  rent  to  pay." 

He  fidgeted  for  a  moment. 

"Miss  Zoe,"  he  said,  "I  am  perfectly  serious  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  have  money  which  should  go  to  your 
brother.  Why  will  you  not  let  me  alter  your  arrange- 
ments just  a  little  ?  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  here 
all  alone." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  she  answered  doubtfully; 
"but  please,  no.  Somehow,  I  think  that  it  would  spoil 
everything  if  I  accepted  that  sort  of  help  from  you.  If 
you  have  any  money  of  Arthur's,  keep  it  for  a  time  and  I 
think  when  you  write  him  —  I  do  not  want  to  seem  grasp- 
ing —  but  I  think  if  he  has  any  to  spare  you  might  sug- 
gest that  he  does  give  me  just  a  little.  I  have  never  had 
anything  from  him  at  all.  Perhaps  he  does  not  quite 
understand  how  hard  it  is  for  me." 

"I  will  do  that,  of  course,"  Laverick  answered,  "but  I 
wish  you  would  let  me  at  least  pay  over  a  little  of  what  I 
consider  due  to  you.  I  will  take  the  responsibility  for  it. 
It  will  come  from  him  and  not  from  me." 

She  remained  unconvinced. 

"I  would  rather  wait,"  she  said.  "If  you  really  want 
to  give  me  something,  I  will  let  you  —  out  of  my  brother's 
money,  of  course,  I  mean,"  she  added.  "  I  have  n't  any- 
thing saved  at  all,  or  I  would  n't  have  that.  But  one  day 
you  shall  take  me  out  and  buy  me  a  dress  and  hat.  You 
can  tell  Arthur  directly  you  write  to  him.  I  don't  mind 
that,  for  sometimes  I  do  feel  ashamed  —  I  did  the  other 


JIM    SHEPHERD'S    SCARE  207 

night  to  have  you  sit  with  me  there,  and  to  feel  that  I  was 
dressed  so  very  differently  from  all  of  them." 

He  laughexl  reassuringly. 

"I  .don't  think  men  notice  those  things.  To  me  you 
seemed  just  as  you  should  seem.  I  only  know  that  I  was 
glad  enough  to  be  there  with  you." 

"Were  you?"  —  rather  wistfully. 

"  Of  course  I  was.  Now  I  am  going,  but  before  I  go, 
don't  forget  Monday  afternoon.  We'll  have  lunch  and 
then  go  to  your  brother's  rooms." 

She  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"Is  it  really  so  late?"  she  asked. 

"It  is.    Don't  you  notice  how  quiet  it  is  outside?" 

They  stood  hand  in  hand  for  a  moment.  A  strange 
silence  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  the  streets.  Laverick 
was  suddenly  conscious  of  something  which  he  had  never 
felt  when  Mademoiselle  Idiale  had  smiled  upon  him  — 
a  quickening  of  the  pulses,  a  sense  of  gathering  excitement 
which  almosi  took  his  breath  away.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  hers,  and  he  seemed  to  see  the  reflection  of  that  same 
wave  of  feeling  in  her  own  expressive  face.  Her  lips 
trembled,  her  eyes  were  deeper  and  softer  than  ever. 
They  seemed  to  be  asking  him  a  question,  asking  and 
asking  till  every  fibre  of  his  body  was  concentrated 
in  the  desperate  effort  with  which  he  kept  her  at  arm's 
length. 

"Is  it  so  very  late?"  she  whispered,  coming  just  a 
little  closer,  so  that  she  was  indeed  almost  within  the 
shelter  of  his  arms. 

He  clutched  her  hands  almost  roughly  and  raised  them 
to  his  lips. 

"Much  too  late  for  me  to  stay  here,  child,"  he  said,  and 
his  voice  even  to  himself  sounded  hard  and  unnatural. 


208  HAVOC 

"  Run  along  to  bed.  To-morrow  night  —  to-morrow 
night,  then,  I  will  fetch  you.  Good-bye!" 

He  let  himself  out.  He  did  riot  even  look  behind  to  the 
spot  where  he  had  left  her.  He  closed  the  front  door  and 
walked  with  swift,  almost  savage  footsteps  down  the  quiet 
street,  across  the  Square,  and  into  New  Oxford  Street. 
Here  he  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely.  He  called  a  han- 
som and  drove  to  his  rooms. 

The  hall-porter  had  left  his  post  in  the  front  hall,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  inform  Laverick  that  a  visitor  was 
awaiting  him.  When  he  entered  his  sitting-room,  however, 
he  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise.  Mr.  James  Shepherd 
was  reclining  in  his  easy-chair  with  his  hands  upon  his 
knees  —  Mr.  James  Shepherd  with  his  face  more  pasty 
even  than  usual,  his  eyes  a  trifle  greener,  his  whole  de- 
meanor one  of  unconcealed  and  unaffected  terror. 

"Hullo!"  Laverick  exclaimed.  "What  the  dickens  — 
what  do  you  want  here,  Shepherd?" 

"Upon  my  word,  sir,  I'm  not  sure  that  I  know,"  the 
man  replied,  "but  I'm  scared.  I've  brought  you  back 
the  certificates  of  them  shares.  I  want  you  to  keep  them 
for  me.  I'm  terrified  lest  they  come  and  search  my  room. 
I  am,  I  tell  you  fair.  I'm  terrified  to  order  a  pint  of  beer 
for  myself.  They're  watching  me  all  the  time." 

"Who  are?"  Laverick  demanded. 

"Lord  knows  who,"  Shepherd  answered,  "but  there's 
two  of  them  at  it.  I  told  you  about  them  as  asked  ques- 
tions, and  I  thought  there  we'd  done  and  finished  with  it. 
Not  a  bit  of  it !  There  was  another  one  there  this  after- 
noon, said  he  was  a  journalist,  making  sketches  of  the 
passage  and  asking  me  no  end  of  questions.  He  was  n't 
no  journalist,  I'll  swear  to  that.  I  asked  him  about  his 
paper.  'Half-a-dozen,'  he  declared.  'They're  all  glad 


JIM    SHEPHERD'S    SCARE  209 

to  have  what  I  send  them.'  Journalist!  Lord  knows 
who  the  other  chap  was  and  what  he  was  asking  ques- 
tions for,  but  this  one  was  a  'tec,  straight.  Joe  Fonman, 
he  was  in  to-day  looking  after  my  place,  for  L.'d  given  a 
month's  notice,  and  he  says  to  me,  'You  see  that  big 
chap?'  — meaning  him  as  had  been  asking  me  the  ques- 
tions —  and  I  says  'Yes!'  and  he  says,  'That's  a  'tec. 
I've  seed  him  in  a  police  court,  giving  evidence/  I  went 
all  of  a  shiver  so  that  you  could  have  knocked  me  down." 

"Come,  come!"  said  Laverick.  "There's  no  need 
for  you  to  be  feeling  like  this  about  it.  All  that  you've 
done  is  not  to  have  remembered  those  two  customers  who 
were  in  your  restaurant  late  one  night.  There's  nothing 
criminal  in  that." 

"There's  something  criminal  in  having  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds'  worth  of  shares  in  one 's  pocket  —  some- 
thing suspicious,  anyway,"  Shepherd  declared,  plumping 
them  down  on  the  table.  "  I  ain't  giving  you  these  back, 
mind,  but  you  must  keep  'em  for  me.  I  wish  I'd  never 
given  notice.  I  think  I'll  ask  the  boss  to  keep  me  on." 

"Why  do  you  suppose  that  this  man  is  particularly 
interested  in  you?"  Laverick  inquired. 

"Ain't  I  told  you?"  Shepherd  exclaimed,  sitting  up. 
"Why,  he's  been  to  my  place  down  in  'Ammersmith, 
asking  questions  about  me.  My  landlady  swears  he  did  n't 
go  into  my  room,  but  who  can  tell  whether  he  did  or  not  ? 
Those  sort  of  chaps  can  get  in  anywhere.  Then  I  went 
out  for  a  bit  of  an  airing  after  the  one  o'clock  rush  was 
over  to-day,  and  I'm  danged  if  he  was  n't  at  my  'eels.  I 
seed  him  coming  round  by  Liverpool  Street  just  as  I  went 
in  a  bar  to  get  a  drop  of  something." 

Laverick  frowned. 

"  If  there  is  anything  in  this  story,  Shepherd,"  he  said, 


2io  HAVOC 

"  if  you  are  really  being  followed,  what  a  thundering  fool 
you  were  to  come  here !  All  the  world  knows  that  Arthur 
Morrison  was  my  partner." 

"  I  could  n't  help  it,  sir,"  the  man  declared.  "  I  could  n't, 
indeed.  I  was  so  scared,  I  felt  I  must  speak  about  it  to 
some  one.  And  then  there  were  these  shares.  There 
was  nowhere  I  could  keep  'em  safe." 

"Look  here,"  Laverick  went  on,  "you're  alarming 
yourself  about  nothing.  In  any  case,  there  is  only  one 
thing  for  you  to  do.  Pull  yourself  together  and  put  a 
bold  face  upon  it.  I'll  keep  these  certificates  for  you,  and 
when  you  want  some  money  you  can  come  to  me  for  it. 
Go  back  to  your  place,  and  if  your  master  is  willing  to 
keep  you  on  perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  stay 
there  for  another  month  or  so.  But  don't  let  any  one  see 
that  you're  frightened.  Remember,  there's  nothing  that 
you  can  get  into  trouble  for.  No  one's  obliged  to  answer 
such  questions  as  you've  been  asked,  except  in  a  court 
and  under  oath.  Stick  to  your  story,  and  if  you  take  my 
advice,"  Laverick  added,  glancing  at  his  visitor's  shaking 
fingers,  "you  wrill  keep  away  from  the  drink." 

"It's  little  enough  I've  had,  sir,"  Shepherd  assured 
him.  "A  drop  now  and  then  just  to  keep  up  one's  spirits 
—  nothing  that  amounts  to  anything." 

"Make  it  as  little  as  possible,"  Laverick  said.  "Re- 
member, I'm  back  of  you,  I'll  see  that  you  get  into  no 
trouble.  And  don't  come  here  again.  Come  to  my  office, 
if  you  like — there's  nothing  in  that  —  but  don't  come 
here,  you  understand?" 

Shepherd  took  up  his  hat. 

"I  understand,  sir.  I'm  sorry  to  have  troubled  you, 
but  the  sight  of  that  man  following  me  about  fairly  gave 
me  the  shivers." 


JIM    SHEPHERD'S    SCARE  211 

"Come  into  the  office  as  often  as  you  like,  in  reason," 
Laverick  said,  showing  him  out,  "but  not  here  again. 
Keep  your  eyes  open,  and  let  me  know  if  you  think  you've 
been  followed  here." 

"There's  no  more  news  in  the  papers,  sir?  Nothing 
turned  up?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Laverick.  "If  the  police  have 
found  out  anything  at  all,  they  will  keep  it  until  after  the 
inquest." 

"And  you've  heard  nothing,  sir,"  Shepherd  asked, 
speaking  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "of  Mr.  Morrison?" 

"Nothing,"  Laverick  answered.  "Mr.  Morrison  is 
abroad." 

The  man  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  hand. 

"Of  course!"  he  muttered.  "A  good  job,  too,  for 
him!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE    DOCUMENT    DISCOVERED 

ON  the  following  morning,  Laverick  surprised  his  office 
cleaner  and  one  errand-boy  by  appearing  at  about  a 
quarter  to  nine.  He  found  a  woman  busy  brushing  out 
his  room  and  a  man  cleaning  the  windows.  They  stared 
at  him  in  amazement.  His  arrival  at  such  an  hour  was 
absolutely  unprecedented. 

"You  can  leave  the  office  just  as  it  is,  if  you  please," 
he  told  them.  "  I  have  a  few  things  to  attend  to  at  once." 

He  was  accordingly  left  alone.  He  had  reckoned  upon 
this  as  being  the  one  period  during  the  day  when  he  could 
rely  upon  not  being  disturbed.  Nevertheless,  he  locked 
the  door  so  as  to  be  secure  against  any  possible  intruder. 
Then  he  went  to  his  safe,  unlocked  it,  and  drew  from  its 
secret  drawer  the  worn  brown-leather  pocket-book. 

First  of  all  he  took  out  the  notes  and  laid  them  upon 
the  table.  Then  he  felt  the  pocket-book  all  over  and  his 
heart  gave  a  little  leap.  It  was  true  what  Mademoiselle 
Idiale  had  told  him.  On  one  side  there  was  distinctly 
a  rustling  as  of  paper.  He  opened  the  case  quite  flat  and 
passed  his  fingers  carefully  over  the  lining.  Very  soon  he 
found  the  opening  —  it  was  simply  a  matter  of  drawing 
down  the  stiff  silk  lining  from  underneath  the  overlapping 
edge.  Thrusting  in  his  fingers,  he  drew  out  a  long  foreign 
envelope,  securely  sealed.  Scarcely  stopping  to  glance 
at  it,  he  rearranged  the  pocket-book,  replaced  the  notes, 
and  locked  it  up  again.  Then  he  unbolted  his  door  and 


THE    DOCUMENT    DISCOVERED     213 

sat  down  at  his  desk,  with  the  document  which  he  had 
discovered,  on  the  pad  in  front  of  him. 

There  was  not  much  to  be  made  of  it.  There  was  no 
address,  but  the  black  seal  at  the  end  bore  the  impression 
of  a  foreign  coat  of  arms,  and  a  motto  which  to  him  wras 
indecipherable.  He  held  it  up  to  the  light,  but  the  outside 
sheet  had  not  been  written  on,  and  he  gained  no  idea  as 
to  its  contents.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  for  a  moment, 
and  looked  at  it.  So  this  was  the  document  which  would 
probably  reveal  the  secret  of  the  murder  in  Crooked 
Friars'  Alley !  This  was  the  document  which  Made- 
moiselle Idiale  considered  of  so  much  more  importance 
than  the  fortune  represented  by  that  packet  of  bank-notes ! 
What  did  it  all  mean?  Was  this  man,  who  had  either 
expiated  a  crime  or  been  the  victim  of  a  terrible  vengeance, 
—  was  he  a  politician,  a  dealer  in  trade  secrets,  a  member 
of  a  secret  society,  an  informer?  Or  was  he  one  of  the 
underground  criminals  of  the  world,  one  of  those  who 
crawl  beneath  the  surface  of  known  things  —  a  creature 
of  the  dark  places?  Perhaps  during  those  few  minutes, 
when  his  brain  was  cool  and  active,  with  the  great  city 
awakening  all  around  him,  Laverick  realized  more  com- 
pletely than  ever  before  exactly  how  he  stood.  Without 
doubt  he  was  walking  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  Four 
days  ago  there  had  been  nothing  for  him  but  ruin.  The 
means  of  salvation  had  suddenly  presented  themselves 
in  this  startling  and  dramatic  manner,  and  without  hesita- 
tion he  had  embraced  them.  What  did  it  all  amount  to? 
How  far  was  he  guilty,  and  of  what?  Was  he  a  thief? 
The '  law  would  probably  call  him  so.  The  law  might 
have  even  more  to  say.  It  would  say  that  by  keeping  his 
mouth  closed  as  to  his  adventure  on  that  night  he  had 
ranged  himself  on  the  side  of  the  criminals,  —  he  was 


2i4  HAVOC 

guilty  not  only  of  technical  theft,  but  of  a  criminal  knowl- 
edge of  this  terrible  crime.  Events  had  followed  upon 
one  another  so  rapidly  during  these  last  few  days  that  he 
had  little  enough  time  for  reflection,  little  time  to  realize  ex- 
actly how  he  stood.  The  long-expected  boom  in  "  Unions," 
the  coming  of  Zoe,  the  strange  advances  made  to  him  by 
Mademoiselle  Idiale,  her  incomprehensible  connection 
with  this  tragedy  across  which  he  had  stumbled,  and  her 
apparent  knowledge  of  his  share  in  it,  —  these  things  were 
sufficient,  indeed,  to  give  him  food  for  thought.  Laverick 
was  not  by  nature  a  pessimist.  Other  things  being  equal, 
he  would  have  made,  without  doubt,  a  magnificent  soldier, 
for  he  had  courage  of  a  rare  and  high  order.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  to  sit  and  brood  upon  his  own  danger. 
He  rather  welcomed  the  opportunity  of  occupying  his 
mind  with  other  thoughts.  Yet  in  those  few  minutes, 
while  he  waited  for  the  business  of  the  day  to  commence, 
he  looked  his  exact  position  in  the  face  and  he  realized 
more  thoroughly  how  grave  it  really  was.  How  was  he 
to  find  a  way  out  —  to  set  himself  right  with  the  law  ? 
What  could  he  do  with  those  notes?  They  were  there 
untouched.  He  had  only  made  use  of  them  in  an  indirect 
way.  They  were  there  intact,  as  he  had  picked  them  up 
upon  that  fateful  night.  Was  there  any  possible  chance 
by  means  of  which  he  might  discover  the  owner  and 
restore  them  in  such  a  way  that  his  name  might  never  be 
mentioned?  His  eyes  repeatedly  sought  that  envelope 
which  lay  before  him.  Inside  it  must  lie  the  secret  of  the 
whole  tragedy.  Should  he  risk  everything  and  break  the 
seal,  or  should  he  risk  perhaps  as  much  and  tell  the  whole 
truth  to  Mademoiselle  Idiale  ?  It  was  a  strange  dilemma 
for  a  man  to  find  himself  in. 

Then,  as  he  sat  there,  the  business  of  the  day  commenced. 


THE    DOCUMENT    DISCOVERED     215 

A  pile  of  letters  was  brought  in,  the  telephones  in  the  outer 
office  began  to  ring.  He  thrust  the  sealed  envelope  into 
the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  and  buttoned  it  up.  There, 
for  the  present,  it  must  remain.  He  owed  it  to  himself  to 
devote  every  energy  he  possessed  to  make  the  most  of  this 
great  tide  of  business.  With  set  face  he  closed  the  doors 
upon  the  unreal  world,  and  took  hold  of  the  levers  which 
were  to  guide  his  passage  through  the  one  in  which  he  was 
an  actual  figure. 

Her  visit  was  not  altogether  unexpected,  and  yet,  when 
they  told  him  that  Mademoiselle  Idiale  was  outside,  he 
hesitated. 

"It  is  the  lady  who  was  here  the  other  day,"  his  head- 
clerk  reminded  him.  "We  made  a  remarkably  good 
choice  of  stocks  for  her.  They  must  be  showing  nearly 
sixteen  hundred  pounds  profit.  Perhaps  she  wants  to 
realize." 

"In  any  case,  you  had  better  show  her  in,"  said 
Laverick. 

She  came,  bringing  with  her,  notwithstanding  her  black 
clothes  and  heavy  veil,  the  atmosphere  of  a  strange  world 
into  his  somewhat  severely  furnished  office.  Her  skirts 
swept  his  carpet  with  a  musical  swirl.  She  carried  with 
her  a  faint,  indefinable  perfume  of  violets,  —  a  perfume 
altogether  peculiar,  dedicated  to  her  by  a  famous  chemist 
in  the  Rue  Royale,  and  supplied  to  no  other  person  upon 
earth.  Who  else  was  there,  indeed,  who  could  have 
walked  those  few  yards  as  she  walked  ? 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  pointed  to  a  chair. 

"You  have  come  to  ask  about  your  shares?"  he  asked 
politely.  "So  far,  we  have  nothing  but  good  news  for 
you." 


216  HAVOC 

She  recognized  that  he  spoke  to  her  in  the  presence  of 
his  clerk,  and  she  waved  her  hand. 

"Women  who  will  come  themselves  to  look  after  their 
poor  investments  are  a  nuisance,  I  suppose,"  she  said. 
"  But  indeed  I  will  not  keep  you  long.  A  few  minutes  are 
all  that  I  shall  ask  of  you.  I  am  beginning  to  find  city 
affairs  so  interesting." 

They  were  alone  by  now  and  Louise  raised  her  veil, 
raised  it  so  high  that  he  could  see  her  eyes.  She  leaned 
back  in  her  chair,  supporting  her  chin  with  the  long, 
exquisite  fingers  of  her  right  hand.  She  looked  at  him 
thoughtfully. 

"You  have  examined  the  pocket-book?"   she  asked. 

"I  have." 

"And  the  document  was  there?" 

"The  document  was  there,"  he  admitted.  "Perhaps 
you  can  tell  me  how  it  would  be  addressed?" 

Looking  at  her  closely,  it  came  to  him  that  her  indif- 
ference was  assumed.  She  was  shivering  slightly,  as 
though  with  cold. 

"I  imagine  that  there  would  be  no  address,"  she 
said. 

"You  are  right.    That  document  is  in  my  pocket." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  she  asked. 

"What  do  you  advise  me  to  do  with  it?" 

"Give  it  to  me." 

"  Have  you  any  claim  ?  " 

She  leaned  a  little  nearer  to  him. 

"At  least  I  have  more  claim  to  it,"  she  whispered, 
"  than  you  to  that  twenty  thousand  pounds." 

"I  do  not  claim  them,"  he  replied.  "They  are  in  my 
safe  at  this  moment,  untouched.  They  are  there  ready 
to  be  returned  to  their  proper  owner." 


THE    DOCUMENT    DISCOVERED     217 

"Why  do  you  not  find  him?"  — with  a  note  of  incre- 
dulity in  her  tone. 

"How  am  I  to  do  that?"   Laverick  demanded. 

"We  waste  words,"  she  continued  coldly.  "I  think 
that  if  I  leave  you  with  the  contents  of  your  safe,  it  will  be 
wise  for  you  to  hand  me  that  document." 

"I  am  inclined  to  do  so,"  Laverick  admitted.  "The 
very  fact  that  you  knew  of  its  existence  would  seem  to 
give  you  a  sort  of  claim  to  it.  But,  Mademoiselle  Idiale, 
will  you  answer  me  a  few  questions  ? " 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  it  would  be  better  if  you 
asked  me  none." 

"But  listen,"  he  begged.  "You  are  the  only  person 
with  whom  I  have  come  into  touch  who  seems  to  know 
anything  about  this  affair.  I  should  rather  like  to  tell  you 
exactly  how  I  stumbled  in  upon  it.  Why  can  we  not 
exchange  confidence  for  confidence?  I  want  neither  the 
twenty  thousand  pounds  nor  the  document.  I  want,  to 
be  frank  with  you,  nothing  but  to  escape  from  the  position 
I  am  now  in  of  being  half  a  thief  and  half  a  criminal. 
Show  me  some  claim  to  that  document  and  you  shall 
have  it.  Tell  me  to  whom  that  money  belongs,  and  it 
shall  be  restored." 

"You  are  incomprehensible,"  she  declared.  "Are  you, 
by  any  chance,  playing  a  part  with  me?  Do  you  think 
that  it  is  worth  while?" 

"Mademoiselle  Idiale,"  Laverick  protested  earnestly, 
"  nothing  in  the  world  is  further  from  my  thoughts.  There 
is  very  little  of  the  conspirator  about  me.  I  am  a  plain 
man  of  business  who  stumbled  in  upon  this  affair  at  a 
critical  moment  and  dared  to  make  temporary  use  of  his 
discovery.  You  can  put  it,  if  you  like,  that  I  am  afraid. 
I  want  to  get  out.  Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure. 


218  HAVOC 

if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  than  to  send  this  pocket- 
book  and  its  contents  anonymously  to  Scotland  Yard, 
and  never  hear  about  them  again." 

She  listened  to  him  with  unchanged  face.  Yet  for 
some  moments  after  he  had  finished  speaking  she  was 
thoughtful. 

"You  may  be  speaking  the  truth,"  she  said.  "If  so,  I 
have  been  deceived.  You  are  not  quite  the  sort  of  man  I 
did  believe  you  were.  What  you  tell  me  is  amazing,  but 
it  may  be  true." 

"It  is  the  truth,"  Laverick  repeated  calmly. 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  after  a  brief  pause.  "  You  were  at 
school,  were  you  not,  with  Mr.  David  Bellamy?  You 
know  well  who  he  is?" 

"Perfectly  well,"  Laverick  admitted. 

"You  would  consider  him  a  person  to  be  trusted?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  declared.  "You  shall  come  to 
my  flat  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon  and  bring  that  docu- 
ment. If  it  is  possible,  David  Bellamy  shall  be  there  him- 
self. We  will  try  then  and  prove  to  you  that  you  do  no 
harm  in  parting  with  that  document  to  us." 

"I  will  come,"  Laverick  promised,  "at  five  o'clock; 
but  you  must  tell  me  where." 

"You  will  put  it  down,  please,"  she  said.  "There  must 
not  be  any  mistake.  You  must  come,  and  you  must  come 
to-day.  I  am  staying  at  number  15,  Dover  Street.  I  will 
leave  orders  that  you  are  shown  in  at  once." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  he  walked  to  the  door  with  her. 
On  the  way  she  hesitated. 

"Take  care  of  yourself  to-day,  Mr.  Laverick,"  she 
begged.  "There  are  others  beside  myself  who  are  inter- 
ested in  that  packet  you  carry  with  you.  You  represent 


THE    DOCUMENT    DISCOVERED     219 

to  them  tilings  beside  which  life  and  death  are  trivial 
happenings." 

Laverick  laughed  shortly.  He  was  a  matter-of-fact 
man,  and  there  seemed  something  a  little  absurd  in  such 
a  warning. 

"I  do  not  think,"  he  declared,  "that  you  need  have 
any  fear.  London  is,  as  you  doubtless  find  it,  a  dull  old 
city,  but  it  is  a  remarkably  safe  one  to  live  in." 

"  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Laverick,"  she  repeated  earnestly, 
"be  on  your  guard  to-day,  for  all  our  sakes." 

He  bowed  and  changed  the  subject. 

"Your  investments,"  he  remarked,  "you  wrill  be  con- 
tent, perhaps,  to  leave  as  they  are.  It  is,  no  doubt,  of 
some  interest  to  you  to  know  that  they  are  showing  already 
a  profit  of  considerably  over  a  thousand  pounds." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  It  was  an  excuse  —  that  investment,"  she  declared. 
"  Yet  money  is  always  good.  Keep  it  for  me,  Mr.  Laverick, 
and  do  what  you  will.  I  will  trust  your  judgment.  Buy 
or  sell  as  you  please.  You  will  let  nothing  prevent  your 
coming  this  afternoon?" 

"Nothing,"  he  promised  her. 

From  the  window  of  her  beautifully  appointed  little 
electric  brougham  she  held  out  her  hand  in  farewell. 

"You  think  me  foolish,  I  know,  that  I  persist,"  she 
said,  "but  I  do  beg  that  you  will  remember  what  I  say. 
Do  not  be  alone  to-day  more  than  you  can  help.  Sus- 
pect every  one  who  comes  near  to  you.  There  may  be  a 
trap  before  your  feet  at  any  moment.  Be  wary  always 
and  do  not  forget  —  at  five  o'clock  I  expect  you." 

Laverick  smiled  as  he  bowed  his  adieux. 

"It  is  a  promise,  Mademoiselle,"  he  assured  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY 

ABOUT  an  hour  after  Mademoiselle  Idiale's  departure  a 
note  marked  "Urgent"  was  brought  in  and  handed  to 
Laverick.  He  tore  it  open.  It  was  dated  from  the  ad- 
dress of  a  firm  of  stockbrokers,  with  two  of  the  partners 
of  which  he  was  on  friendly  terms.  It  ran  thus : 

Mr  DEAR  LAVEBICK,  —  I  want  a  chat  with  you,  if  you  can 
spare  five  minutes  at  lunch  time.  Come  to  Lyons'  a  little  earlier 
than  usual,  if  you  don't  mind,  —  say  at  a  quarter  to  one. 

J.  HENSHAW. 

Laverick  read  the  typewritten  note  carelessly  enough 
at  first.  He  had  even  laid  it  down  and  glanced  at  the  clock, 
with  the  intention  of  starting  out,  when  a  thought  struck 
him.  He  took  it  up  and  read  it  through  again.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  telephone. 

"  Put  me  on  to  the  office  of  Henshaw  &  Allen.  I  want 
to  speak  to  Mr.  Henshaw  particularly." 

Two  minutes  passed.  Laverick,  meanwhile,  had  been 
washing  his  hands  ready  to  go  out.  Then  the  telephone 
bell  rang.  He  took  up  the  receiver. 

"  Hullo !     Is  that  Henshaw  ?  " 

"I'm  Henshaw,"  was  the  answer.  "That's  Laverick, 
is  n't  it?  How  are  you,  old  fellow?" 

"I'm  all  right,"  Laverick  replied.  "What  is  it  that 
you  want  to  see  me  about?" 

"Nothing  particular  that  I  know  of.  Who  told  you 
that  I  wanted  to?" 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY         221 

Laverick,  who  had  been  standing  with  the  instrument 
in  his  hand,  sat  down  in  his  chair. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "didn't  you  send  me  a  note  a 
few  minutes  ago,  asking  me  to  come  out  to  lunch  at  a 
quarter  to  one  and  meet  you  at  Lyons'?" 

Henshaw's  laugh  was  sufficient  response. 

"Delighted  to  lunch  with  you  there  or  anywhere,  old 
chap,  —  you  know  that,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  some 
one  's  been  putting  up  a  practical  joke  on  you." 

"You  did  not  send  me  a  note  round  this  morning, 
then?"  Laverick  insisted. 

"I'll  swear  I  didn't,"  came  the  reply.  "Do  you 
seriously  mean  that  you've  had  one  purporting  to  come 
from  me?" 

Laverick  pulled  himself  together. 

"Well,  the  signature  's  such  a  scrawl,"  he  said,  "that 
no  one  could  tell  what  the  name  really  was.  I  guessed  at 
you  but  I  seem  to  have  guessed  wrong.  Good-bye !" 

He  set  down  the  receiver  and  rang  off  to  escape  further 
questioning.  Now  indeed  the  plot  was  commencing  to 
thicken.  This  was  a  deliberate  effort  on  the  part  of  some 
one  to  secure  his  absence  from  his  offices  at  a  quarter 
to  one. 

With  the  document  in  his  pocket  and  the  safe  securely 
locked,  Laverick  felt  at  ease  as  to  the  result  of  any 
attempted  burglary  of  his  premises.  At  the  same  time 
his  curiosity  was  excited.  Here,  perhaps,  was  a  chance 
of  finding  some  clue  to  this  impenetrable  mystery. 

There  were  three  clerks  in  the  outer  office.  He  put  on 
his  hat  and  despatched  two  of  them  on  errands  in  differ- 
ent directions.  The  last  he  was  obliged  to  take  into  his 
confidence. 

"Halsey,"  he  said..  "I  am  going  out  to  lunch.    At  least, 


222  HAVOC 

I  wish  it  to  be  thought  that  I  am  going  out  to  lunch.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  shall  return  in  about  ten  minutes  by 
the  back  way.  I  do  not  wish  you,  however,  to  know  this. 
I  want  you  to  have  it  in  your  mind  that  I  have  gone  to 
lunch  and  shall  not  be  back  until  a  quarter  past  two.  If 
there  are  visitors  for  me  —  inquirers  of  any  sort  —  act 
exactly  as  you  would  have  done  if  you  really  believed  that 
I  was  not  in  the  building." 

Halsey  appeared  a  good  deal  mystified.  Laverick  took 
him  even  further  into  his  confidence. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Halsey,"  he  said,  "I  have  just 
received  a  bogus  letter  from  Mr.  Henshaw,  asking  me  to 
lunch  with  him.  Some  one  was  evidently  anxious  to  get 
me  out  of  my  office  for  an  hour  or  so.  I  want  to  find  out 
for  myself  what  this  means,  if  possible.  You  understand  ?  " 

"I  think  so,  sir,"  the  man  replied  doubtfully.  "I  am 
not  to  be  aware  that  you  have  returned,  then?" 

"Certainly  not,"  Laverick  answered.  "Please  be 
quite  clear  about  that.  If  you  hear  any  commotion  in 
the  office,  you  can  come  in,  but  do  not  send  for  the  police 
unless  I  tell  you  to.  I  wish  to  look  into  this  affair  for 
myself." 

Halsey,  who  had  started  life  as  a  lawyer's  clerk,  and 
was  distinctly  formal  in  his  ideas,  was  a  little  shocked. 

"Would  it  not  be  better,  sir,"  he  suggested,  "for  me  to 
communicate  with  the  police  in  the  first  case?  If  this 
should  really  turn  out  to  be  an  attempt  at  burglary,  it 
would  surely  be  best  to  leave  the  matter  to  them." 

Laverick  frowned. 

"For  certain  reasons,  Halsey,  which  I  do  not  think  it 
necessary  to  tell  you,  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  investi- 
gate this  matter  personally.  Please  do  exactly  as  I 
say." 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY         223 

He  left  the  office  and  strolled  up  the  street  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  restaurant  which  he  chiefly  frequented.  He 
reached  it  in  a  moment  or  two,  but  left  it  at  once  by 
another  entrance.  Within  ten  minutes  he  was  back  at 
his  office. 

"Has  any  one  been,  Halsey?" 

"No  one,  sir,"  the  clerk  answered. 

"You  will  be  so  good,"  Laverick  continued,  "as  to 
forget  that  I  have  returned." 

He  passed  on  quickly  into  his  own  room  and  made  his 
way  into  the  small  closet  where  he  kept  his  coat  and 
washed  his  hands.  He  had  scarcely  been  there  a  minute 
when  he  heard  voices  in  the  outside  hall.  The  door  of 
his  office  was  opened. 

"Mr.  Laverick  said  nothing  about  an  appointment  at 
this  hour,"  he  heard  Halsey  protest  in  a  somewhat  depre- 
cating tone. 

"He  had,  perhaps,  forgotten,"  was  the  answer,  in  a 
totally  unfamiliar  voice.  "At  any  rate,  I  am  not  in  a 
great  hurry.  The  matter  is  of  some  importance,  however, 
and  I  will  wait  for  Mr.  Laverick." 

The  visitor  was  shown  in.  Laverick  investigated  his 
appearance  through  a  crack  in  the  door.  He  was  a  man 
of  medium  height,  well-dressed,  clean-shaven,  and  wore 
gold-rimmed  spectacles.  He  made  himself  comfortable 
in  Laverick's  easy-chair,  and  accepted  the  paper  which 
Halsey  offered  him. 

"  I  shall  be  quite  glad  of  a  rest,"  he  remarked  genially. 
"I  have  been  running  about  all  the  morning." 

"Mr.  Laverick  is  never  very  long  out  for  lunch,  sir, 
Halsey  said.     "  I  daresay  he  will  not  keep  you  more  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  twenty  minutes." 

The  clerk  withdrew  and  closed  the  door.    The  man  in 


224  HAVOC 

the  chair  waited  for  a  moment.  Then  he  laid  down  his 
newspaper  and  looked  cautiously  around  the  room.  Sat- 
isfied apparently  that  he  was  alone,  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
walked  swiftly  to  Laverick's  writing-table.  With  fingers 
which  seemed  gifted  with  a  lightning-like  capacity  for 
movement,  he  swung  open  the  drawers,  one  by  one,  and 
turned  over  the  papers.  His  eyes  were  everywhere.  Every 
document  seemed  to  be  scanned  and  as  rapidly  discarded. 
At  last  he  found  something  which  interested  him.  He 
held  it  up  and  paused  in  his  search.  Laverick  heard  a 
little  breath  come  through  his  teeth,  and  with  a  thrill  he 
recognized  the  paper  as  one  which  he  had  torn  from  a 
memorandum  tablet  and  upon  which  he  had  written 
down  the  address  which  Mademoiselle  Idiale  had  given 
him.  The  man  with  the  gold-rimmed  glasses  replaced 
the  paper  where  he  had  found  it.  Evidently  he  had 
done  with  the  writing-table.  He  moved  swiftly  over  to 
the  safe  and  stood  there  listening  for  a  few  seconds.  Then 
from  his  pocket  he  drew  a  bunch  of  keys.  To  Laverick's 
surprise,  at  the  stranger's  first  effort  the  great  door  of  the 
safe  swung  open.  He  saw  the  man  lean  forward,  saw  his 
hand  reappear  almost  directly  with  the  pocket-book 
clenched  in  his  fingers.  Then  he  stood  once  more  quite 
still,  listening.  Satisfied  that  no  one  was  disturbed,  he 
closed  the  door  of  the  safe  softly  and  moved  once  more 
to  the  writing-table.  With  marvelous  swiftness  the  notes 
were  laid  upon  the  table,  the  pocket-book  was  turned 
upside  down,  the  secret  place  disclosed  —  the  secret  place 
which  was  empty.  It  seemed  to  Laverick  that  from  his 
hiding-place  he  could  hear  the  little  oath  of  disappoint- 
ment which  broke  from  the  thin  red  lips.  The  man  re- 
placed the  notes  and,  with  the  pocket-book  in  his  hand, 
hesitated.  Laverick,  who  thought  that  things  had  gone 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY         225 

far  enough,  stepped  lightly  out  from  his  hiding-place  and 
stood  between  his  unbidden  visitor  and  the  door. 

"  You  had  better  put  down  that  pocket-book,"  he  ordered 
quietly. 

The  man  was  upon  him  with  a  single  spring,  but  Lav- 
erick,  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  knocked  him  prone 
upon  the  floor,  where  he  lay,  for  a  moment,  motionless. 
Then  he  slowly  picked  himself  up.  His  spectacles  were 
broken  —  he  blinked  as  he  stood  there. 

"Sorry  to  be  so  rough,"  Laverick  said.  "Perhaps  if 
you  will  kindly  realize  that  of  the  two  I  am  much  the 
stronger  man,  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  sit  in  that  chair 
and  tell  me  the  meaning  of  your  intrusion." 

The  man  obeyed.  He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
for  a  moment,  as  though  in  pain. 

"  I  imagine,"  he  said  —  and  it  seemed  to  Laverick  that 
his  voice  had  a  slight  foreign  accent  —  "I  imagine  that 
the  motive  for  my  paying  you  this  visit  is  fairly  clear  to 
you.  People  who  have  compromising  possessions  may 
always  expect  visits  of  this  sort.  You  see,  one  runs  so 
little  risk." 

"So  little  risk!"  Laverick  repeated. 

"Exactly,"  the  other  answered.  "Confess  that  you 
are  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  ring  your  bell  and  send  for 
a  constable  to  give  me  in  charge  for  being  in  possession 
of  a  pocket-book  abstracted  from  your  safe,  containing 
twenty  thousand  pounds  in  Bank  of  England  notes." 

"  It  would  n't  do  at  all,"  Laverick  admitted. 

"  You  are  a  man  of  common  sense,"  declared  the  other. 
"It  would  not  do.  Now  comes  the  time  when  I  have  a 
question  to  ask  you.  There  was  a  sealed  document  in 
this  pocket-book.  Where  is  it?  What  have  you  done 
with  it?" 


226  HAVOC 

"Can  you  tell  me,"  Laverick  asked,  "why  I  should 
answer  questions  from  a  person  whom  I  discover  appar- 
ently engaged  in  a  nefarious  attempt  at  burglary?" 

The  man's  hand  shot  out  from  his  trouser-pocket, 
and  Laverick  looked  into  the  gleaming  muzzle  of  a 
revolver. 

"Because  if  you  don't,  you  die,"  was  the  quick  reply. 
"Whether  you've  read  that  document  or  not,  I  want  it 
If  you  've  read  it,  you  know  the  sort  of  men  you  've  got 
to  deal  with.  If  you  have  n't,  take  my  word  for  it 
that  we  waste  no  time.  The  document !  Will  you  give 
it  me?" 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  are  threatening  me?" 
Laverick  asked,  retreating  a  few  steps. 

"You  may  understand  that  this  is  a  repeating  revolver, 
and  that  I  seldom  miss  a  half-crown  at  twenty  paces," 
his  visitor  answered.  "  If  you  put  out  your  hand  toward 
that  bell,  it  will  be  the  last  movement  you'll  ever  make 
on  earth." 

"  London  is  n't  really  the  place  for  this  sort  of  thing," 
Laverick  said.  "If  you  discharge  that  revolver,  you 
have  n't  a  dog's  chance  of  getting  clear  of  the  building. 
My  clerks  would  rush  out  after  you  into  the  street.  You'd 
find  yourself  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  business  men. 
You  could  n't  make  your  way  through  anywhere.  You  'd 
be  held  up  before  you'd  gone  a  dozen  yards.  Put  down 
your  revolver.  We  can  perhaps  settle  this  little  matter 
without  it." 

"  The  document !"  the  man  ordered.  "  You 've  got  it ! 
You  must  have  it !  You  took  that  pocket-book  from  a 
dead  man,  and  in  that  pocket-book  was  the  document. 
We  must  have  it.  We  intend  to  have  it." 

"And  who,  may  I  ask,  are  we?"   Laverick  inquired. 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY         227 

"If  you  do  not  know,  what  does  it  matter?  Will  you 
give  it  to  me?" 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  no  document." 

The  man  in  the  chair  leaned  forward.  The  muzzle  of 
his  revolver  was  very  bright,  and  he  held  it  in  fingers 
which  were  firm  as  a  rock. 

"Give  it  to  me!"  he  repeated.  "You  ought  to  know 
that  you  are  not  dealing  with  men  who  are  unaccustomed 
to  death.  You  have  it  about  you.  Produce  it,  and  I've 
done  with  you.  Deny  me,  and  you  have  not  time  to  say 
your  prayers !" 

Laverick  was  leaning  against  a  small  table  which  stood 
near  the  door.  His  fingers  suddenly  gripped  the  ledger 
which  lay  upon  it.  He  held  it  in  front  of  his  face  for  a 
single  moment,  and  then  dashed  it  at  his  visitor.  He 
followed  behind  with  one  desperate  spring.  Once,  twice, 
the  revolver  barked  out.  Laverick  felt  the  skin  of  his 
temple  burn  and  a  flick  on  the  ear  which  reminded  him 
of  his  school-days.  Then  his  hand  was  upon  the  other 
man's  throat  and  the  revolver  lay  upon  the  carpet. 

"We'll  see  about  that.  By  the  Lord,  I've  a  good 
mind  to  wring  the  life  out  of  you.  That  bullet  of  yours 
might  have  been  in  my  temple." 

"It  was  meant  to  be  there,"  the  man  gasped.  "Hand 
over  the  document,  you  pig-headed  fool !  It  '11  cost  you 
your  life  —  if  not  to-day,  to-morrow." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  you  get  it,  anyway!"  Laverick 
answered  fiercely.  "  You  assassin !  Scoundrel !  To 
come  here  and  make  a  cold-blooded  effort  at  murder ! 
You  shall  see  what  you  think  of  the  inside  of  an  English 
prison." 

The  man  laughed  contemptuously. 


228  HAVOC 

"And  what  about  the  pocket-book?"  he  asked. 

Laverick  was  silent.  His  assailant  smiled  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "I  have  made  my  effort  and  failed. 
You  have  twenty  thousand  pounds.  That's  a  fair  price, 
but  I'll  add  another  twenty  thousand  for  that  document 
unopened." 

"  It  is  possible  that  we  might  deal,"  Laverick  remarked, 
kicking  the  revolver  a  little  further  away.  "  Unfortunately, 
I  am  too  much  in  the  dark.  Tell  me  the  real  position  of 
the  murdered  man  ?  Tell  me  why  he  was  murdered  ? 
Tell  me  the  contents  of  this  document  and  why  it  was  in 
his  possession?  Perhaps  I  may  then  be  inclined  to  treat 
with  you." 

"You  are  either  an  astonishingly  ingenuous  person, 
Mr.  Laverick,"  his  visitor  declared,  "  or  you  're  too  subtle 
for  me.  You  do  not  expect  me  to  believe  that  you  are  in 
this  with  your  eyes  blindfolded  ?  You  do  not  expect  me 
to  believe  that  you  do  not  know  what  is  in  that  sealed 
envelope  ?  Bah !  It  is  a  child's  game,  that,  and  we  play 
as  men  with  men." 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"Your  offer,"  he  asked,  "what  is  it  exactly?" 

"  Twenty  thousand  pounds,"  the  man  answered.  "  The 
document  is  worth  no  more  than  that  to  you.  How  you 
came  into  this  thing  is  a  mystery,  but  you  are  in  and,  what 
is  more,  you  have  possession.  Twenty  thousand  pounds, 
Mr.  Laverick.  It  is  a  large  sum  of  money.  You  find  it 
interesting  ?  " 

"I  find  it  interesting,"  Laverick  answered  dryly,  "but 
I  am  not  a  seller." 

The  intruder  moved  his  hand  away  from  his  eyes.  His 
expression  was  full  of  wonder. 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY         229 

"  Consider  for  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  While  that  docu- 
ment remains  in  your  possession,  you  walk  the  narrow 
way,  your  life  hangs  upon  a  thread.  Better  surrender  it 
and  attend  to  your  stocks  and  shares.  Heaven  knows 
how  you  first  came  into  our  affairs,  but  the  sooner  you 
are  out  of  them  the  better.  What  do  you  say  now  to 
my  offer?" 

"It  is  refused,"  Laverick  declared.  "I  regret  to  add," 
he  continued,  "  that  I  have  already  spared  you  all  the  time 
I  have  at  my  disposal.  Forgive  me." 

He  pressed  a  button  with  his  finger.  His  visitor  rose 
up  in  anger. 

"You  are  not  such  a  fool!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  are 
not  going  to  send  me  away  without  it?  Why,  I  tell  you 
that  there  won't  be  a  safe  corner  in  the  world  for 
you ! " 

Halsey  opened  the  door.  Laverick  nodded  toward  his 
visitor. 

"Show  this  gentleman  out,  Halsey,"  he  ordered. 

Halsey  started.  The  noise  of  the  revolver  shot  had 
evidently  been  muffled  by  the  heavy  connecting  doors, 
but  there  was  a  smell  of  gunpowder  in  the  room,  and  a 
little  wreath  of  smoke.  The  man  rose  slowly  to  his  feet, 
still  blinking. 

"It  must  be  as  you  will,  of  course.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  be  so  good  as  to  let  your  clerk  direct  me  to  an 
oculist?  I  am,  unfortunately,  a  helpless  man  in  this 
condition." 

"There  is  one  a  few  yards  off,"  Laverick  answered. 
"  Put  on  your  hat,  Halsey,  and  show  this  gentleman  where 
he  can  get  some  glasses." 

His  visitor  leaned  towards  Laverick. 

"It  is  your  life  which  is  in  question,  not  my  eyesight," 


23o  HAVOC 

he  muttered.     "Do  you  accept  my  offer?    Will  you  give 
me  the  document  ?  " 

"I  do  not  and  I  will  not,"  Laverick  replied.  "I  shall 
not  part  with  anything  until  I  know  more  than  I  know  at 
present." 

The  man  stood  motionless  for  a  moment.  His  fingers 
seemed  to  be  twitching.  Laverick  had  a  fancy  that 
he  was  about  to  spring,  but  if  ever  he  had  had  any 
thoughts  of  the  kind,  Halsey's  reappearance  checked 
them. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  said 
quietly.  "We  shall,  perhaps,  resume  this  discussion  at 
some  future  date." 

With  that  he  turned  and  followed  Halsey  out  of  the 
room.  Laverick  went  to  the  window  and  threw  it  wide 
open.  The  smoke  floated  out,  the  smell  of  gunpowder 
was  gradually  dispersed.  Then  he  walked  back  to  his 
seat.  Once  more  he  locked  up  the  notes.  The  document 
was  safe  in  his  pocket.  There  was  a  slight  mark  by  the 
side  of  his  temple,  and  his  ear,  he  discovered,  was  bleed- 
ing. He  rang  the  bell  and  Halsey  entered. 

"  Has  our  friend  gone,  Halsey  ?  " 

"I  left  him  in  the  optician's,  sir,"  the  clerk  answered. 
"He  was  buying  some  spectacles." 

Laverick  glanced  at  the  floor,  where  the  remains  of 
those  gold-rimmed  glasses  were  scattered. 

"You  had  better  send  for  a  locksmith  at  once,"  he 
said.  "  The  gentleman  who  has  been  here  had  a  skeleton 
key  to  my  safe.  We'll  have  a  combination  put  on." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  Halsey  answered. 

"And,  Halsey,"  his  master  continued,  "be  careful 
about  one  thing,  for  your  own  sake  as  well  as  mine. 
If  that  man  presents  himself  again,  don't  let  him  come 


PENETRATING    A    MYSTERY        231 

into  my  room  unannounced.  If  you  can  help  it,  don't 
let  him  come  in  at  all.  I  have  an  idea  that  he  might  be 
dangerous." 

The  clerk's  face  was  a  study. 

"If  he  presents  himself  here,  sir,"  he  announced 
stiffly,  "  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  sending  for  the  police." 

Laverick  made  no  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXVIH 

LAVERICK'S  NAEROW  ESCAPE 

AT  precisely  a  quarter  past  four,  nothing  having  happened 
in  the  meantime  but  a  steady  rush  of  business,  Laverick 
ordered  a  taxicab  to  be  summoned.  He  then  unlocked 
his  safe,  placed  the  pocket-book  securely  in  his  breast 
pocket,  walked  through  the  office,  and  directed  the  man 
to  drive  to  Chancery  Lane.  Here  at  the  headquarters  of 
the  Safe  Deposit  Company  he  engaged  a  compartment, 
and  down  in  the  strong-room  locked  up  the  pocket-book. 
There  was  only  now  the  document  left.  Stepping  once 
more  into  the  street,  he  found  that  his  taxicab  had  van- 
ished. He  looked  up  and  down  in  vain.  The  man  had 
not  been  paid  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  for  his 
departure.  A  policeman  who  was  standing  by  touched 
his  hat  and  addressed  him. 

"Were  you  looking  for  that  taxi  you  stepped  out  of  a 
few  minutes  ago,  sir?"  he  asked. 

"  I  was,"  Laverick  answered.  "  I  had  n't  paid  him  and 
I  told  him  to  wait." 

"I  thought  there  was  something  queer  about  it,"  the 
policeman  remarked.  "Soon  after  you  had  gone  inside, 
two  gentlemen  drove  up  in  a  hansom.  They  got  out  here 
and  one  of  them  spoke  to  your  driver,  who  shook  his  head 
and  pointed  to  his  flag.  The  gent  then  said  something 
else  to  him  —  can't  say  as  I  heard  what  it  was,  but  it 
was  probably  offering  him  double  fare.  Anyway,  they 
both  got  in  and  off  went  your  taxi,  sir." 


LAVERlCK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      233 

"Thank  you,"  Laverick  said  thoughtfully.  "It  sounds 
a  little  perplexing." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  Constable,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  just  made  a  very 
valuable  deposit  in  there,  and  I  had  an  idea  that  I  might 
be  followed.  I  have  still  in  my  pocket  a  document  of 
great  importance.  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  but  that  the 
object  of  the  men  who  have  taken  my  taxicab  is  to  leave 
me  in  the  street  here  alone  under  circumstances  which 
will  render  a  quick  attack  upon  me  likely  to  be 
successful." 

The  policeman  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  Laverick 
incredulously.  He  was  more  than  half  inclined  to  believe 
that  this  was  a  practical  joke.  Were  they  not  standing  on 
the  pavement  in  Chancery  Lane,  and  was  not  he  an  able- 
bodied  policeman  of  great  bulk  and  immense  muscle! 
Yet  his  companion  did  not  look  by  any  means  a  man  of 
the  nervous  order.  Laverick  was  broad-shouldered,  his 
skin  was  tanned  a  wholesome  color,  his  bearing  was  the 
bearing  of  a  man  prepared  to  defend  himself  at  any  time. 
The  constable  smiled  in  a  non-committal  manner. 

"If  you'll  excuse  my  saying  so,  sir,"  he  remarked,  "I 
don't  think  this  is  exactly  the  spot  any  one  would  choose 
for  an  assault." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  Laverick  answered,  "but,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  must  remember  that  these  gentlemen  have 
had  no  choice.  I  stepped  from  my  office  direct  into  the 
taxi,  and  I  proposed  to  drive  straight  from  here  to  the  place 
where  I  shall  probably  leave  the  other  document  I  am 
carrying  with  me.  Why  I  have  taken  you  into  my  con- 
fidence is  to  ask  you  this.  Can  you  walk  with  me  to  the 
corner  of  the  street,  or  until  we  meet  a  taxicab  ?  It  sounds 
cowardly,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  not  afraid.  I 


234  HAVOC 

simply  want  to  make  sure  of  delivering  this  document  to 
the  person  to  whom  it  belongs." 

The  constable  stood  still,  a  little  perplexed. 

"My  beat,  sir,"  he  said,  "only  goes  about  twenty-five 
yards  further  on.  I  will  walk  to  the  corner  of  Holborn 
with  you,  if  you  desire  it.  At  the  same  time,  I  may  say 
that  I  am  breaking  regulations.  How  do  I  know  that  it 
is  not  your  scheme  to  get  me  away  from  this  neighbor- 
hood for  some  purpose  of  your  own?" 

"You  don't  believe  anything  of  the  sort,"  Laverick 
declared,  with  a  smile. 

"I  do  not,  sir,"  the  policeman  admitted.  "Keep  by 
my  side,  and  I  think  that  nothing  will  happen  to  you  be- 
fore we  reach  Holborn." 

Laverick  was  a  man  of  more  than  medium  height, 
but  by  the  side  of  the  policeman  he  seemed  short.  Both 
scanned  the  faces  of  the  passers-by  closely  —  the  police- 
man with  mild  interest,  Laverick  with  almost  feverish 
anxiety.  It  was  a  gray  afternoon,  pleasant  but  close. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  whatever  to  account  for  the 
feeling  of  nervousness  which  had  suddenly  come  over 
Laverick.  He  felt  himself  in  danger  —  he  had  no  idea 
how,  or  in  what  way  —  but  the  conviction  was  there.  He 
took  every  step  fully  alert,  absolutely  on  his  guard. 

They  were  almost  within  sight  of  Holborn  when  a  cry 
from  the  bystanders  caused  them  to  look  away  into  the 
middle  of  the  road.  Laverick  only  cast  one  glance  there 
and  abandoned  every  instinct  of  curiosity,  thinking  once 
more  only  of  himself  and  his  own  position.  With  the 
constable,  however,  it  was  naturally  different.  He  saw 
something  which  called  at  once  for  his  intervention,  and 
he  immediately  forgot  the  somewhat  singular  task  upon 
which  he  was  engaged.  A  man  had  fallen  in  the  middle 


LAVERICK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      235 

of  the  street,  either  knocked  down  by  the  shaft  of  a  passing 
vehicle  or  in  some  sort  of  fit.  There  was  a  tangle  of 
rearing  horses,  an  omnibus  was  making  desperate  efforts 
to  avoid  the  prostrate  body.  The  constable  sprang  to 
the  rescue.  Laverick,  instantly  suspicious  and  realizing 
that  there  was  no  one  in  front  of  him,  turned  swiftly  around. 
He  was  just  in  time  to  receive  upon  his  left  arm  the  blow 
which  had  been  meant  for  the  back  of  his  head.  He  was 
confronted  by  a  man  dressed  exactly  as  he  himself  was, 
in  morning  coat  and  silk  hat,  a  man  with  long,  lean  face 
and  legal  appearance,  such  a  person  as  would  have  passed 
anywhere  without  attracting  a  moment's  suspicion.  Yet, 
in  the  space  of  a  few  seconds  he  had  whipped  out  from 
one  pocket,  with  the  skill  almost  of  a  juggler,  a  vicious- 
looking  life-preserver,  and  from  the  other  a  pocket-hand- 
kerchief soaked  with  chloroform.  Laverick,  quick  and 
resourceful,  feeling  his  left  arm  sink  helpless,  struck  at 
the  man  with  his  right  and  sent  him  staggering  against 
the  wall.  The  handkerchief,  with  its  load  of  sickening 
odor,  fell  to  the  pavement.  The  man  was  obviously 
worsted.  Laverick  sprang  at  him.  They  were  almost 
unobserved,  for  the  crowrd  was  all  intent  upon  the  acci- 
dent in  the  roadway.  With  wonderful  skill,  his  assailant 
eluded  his  attempt  to  close,  and  tore  at  his  coat.  Laverick 
struck  at  him  again  but  met  only  the  air.  The  man's 
fingers  now  were  upon  his  pocket,  but  this  time  Laverick 
made  no  mistake.  He  struck  downward  so  hard  that 
with  a  fierce  cry  of  pain  the  man  relaxed  his  hold.  Before 
he  could  recover,  Laverick  had  struck  him  again.  He 
reeled  into  the  crowd  that  was  fast  gathering  around  them, 
attracted  by  what  seemed  to  be  a  fight  between  two  men 
of  unexceptionable  appearance.  But  there  was  to  be  no 
more  fight.  Through  the  people,  swift-footed,  cunning, 


236  HAVOC 

resourceful,  his  assailant  seemed  to  find  some  hidden 
way.  Laverick  glared  fiercely  around  him,  but  the  man 
had  gone.  His  left  hand  crept  to  his  chest.  The  victory 
was  with  him;  the  document  was  still  there. 

At  the  outside  of  the  double  crowd  he  perceived  a  taxi. 
Ignoring  the  storm  of  questions  with  which  he  was  assailed, 
and  the  advancing  helmet  of  his  friend  the  policeman  at 
the  back  of  the  crowd,  Laverick  hailed  it  and  stepped 
quickly  inside. 

"  Back  out  of  this  and  drive  to  Dover  Street,"  he  directed. 

The  man  obeyed  him.  People  raced  to  look  through 
the  window  at  him.  The  other  commotion  had  died  away, 
—  the  man  in  the  road  had  got  up  and  walked  off.  A 
policeman  came  hurrying  along  but  he  was  just  too  late. 
Very  soon  they  were  on  their  way  down  Holborn.  Once 
more  Laverick  had  escaped. 

A  French  man-servant,  with  the  sad  face  and  immacu- 
late dress  of  a  High-Church  cleric,  took  possession  of  him 
as  soon  as  he  had  asked  for  Mademoiselle  Idiale.  He 
was  shown  into  one  of  the  most  delightful  little  rooms  he 
had  ever  even  dreamed  of.  The  walls  were  hung  with  that 
peculiar  shade  of  blue  satin  which  Mademoiselle  so  often 
affected  in  her  clothes.  Laverick,  who  was  something 
of  a  connoisseur,  saw  nowhere  any  object  which  was  not, 
of  its  sort,  priceless,  —  French  furniture  of  the  best  and 
choicest  period,  a  statuette  which  made  him,  for  a  mo- 
ment, almost  forget  the  scene  from  which  he  had  just 
arrived.  The  air  in  the  room  seemed  as  though  it  had 
passed  through  a  grove  of  lemon  trees,  —  it  was  fresh 
and  sweet  yet  curiously  fragrant.  Laverick  sank  down 
into  one  of  the  luxurious  blue-brocaded  chairs,  conscious 
for  the  first  time  that  he  was  out  of  breath.  Then  the 


LAVERICK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      237 

door  opened  silently  and  there  entered  not  the  woman 
whom  he  had  been  expecting,  but  Mr.  Lassen.  Laverick 
rose  to  his  feet  half  doubtfully.  Lassen's  small,  queerly- 
shaped  face  seemed  to  have  become  one  huge  ingratiating 
smile. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  said, 
—  "very  glad  indeed." 

"I  have  come  to  call  upon  Mademoiselle  Idiale," 
Laverick  answered,  somewhat  curtly.  He  had  disliked 
this  man  from  the  first  moment  he  had  seen  him,  and  he 
saw  no  particular  reason  why  he  should  conceal  his 
feelings. 

"I  am  here  to  explain,"  Mr.  Lassen  continued,  seating 
himself  opposite  to  Laverick.  "Mademoiselle  Idiale  is 
unfortunately  prevented  from  seeing  you.  She  has  a 
severe  nervous  headache,  and  her  only  chance  of  appear- 
ing to-night  is  to  remain  perfectly  undisturbed.  Women 
of  her  position,  as  you  may  understand,  have  to  be  excep- 
tionally careful.  It  would  be  a  very  serious  matter  indeed 
if  she  were  unable  to  sing  to-night." 

"  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  hear  it,"  Laverick  answered- 
"  In  that  case,  I  will  call  again  when  Mademoiselle  Idiale 
has  recovered." 

"By  all  means,  my  dear  sir!"  Mr.  Lassen  exclaimed. 
"  Many  times,  let  us  hope.  But  in  the  meantime,  there  is 
a  little  affair  of  a  document  which  you  were  going  to 
deliver  to  Mademoiselle.  She  is  most  anxious  that  you 
should  hand  it  to  me  —  most  anxious.  She  will  tender 
you  her  thanks  personally,  to-morrow  or  the  next  day, 
if  she  is  well  enough  to  receive." 

Laverick  shook  his  head  firmly. 

"Under  no  circumstances,"  he  declared,  "should  I 
think  of  delivering  the  document  into  any  other  i 


238  HAVOC 

save  those  of  Mademoiselle  Idiale.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  had  not  fully  decided  whether  to  part  with  it  even  to 
her.  I  was  simply  prepared  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 
But  it  may  save  time  if  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Lassen,  that 
nothing  would  induce  me  to  part  with  it  to  any  one  else." 

There  was  no  trace  left  of  that  ingratiating  smile  upon 
Mr.  Lassen's  face.  He  had  the  appearance  now  of  an 
ugly  animal  about  to  show  its  teeth.  Laverick  was  sud- 
denly on  his  guard.  More  adventures,  he  thought,  cast- 
ing a  somewhat  contemptuous  glance  at  the  physique  of 
the  other  man.  He  laid  his  fingers  as  though  carelessly 
upon  a  small  bronze  ornament  which  reposed  amongst 
others  on  a  table  by  his  side.  If  Mr.  Lassen's  fat  and 
ugly  hand  should  steal  toward  his  pocket,  Laverick  was 
prepared  to  hurl  the  ornament  at  his  head. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Laverick," 
Lassen  said  slowly.  "I  hope  very  much  that  you  will 
see  your  way  clear  to  change  your  mind.  I  can  assure 
you  that  I  have  as  much  right  to  the  document  as  Made- 
moiselle Idiale,  and  that  it  is  her  earnest  wish  that  you 
should  hand  it  over  to  me.  Further,  I  may  inform  you 
that  the  document  itself  is  a  most  incriminating  one.  Its 
possession  upon  your  person,  or  upon  the  person  of  any 
one  who  was  not  upon  his  guard,  might  be  a  very  serious 
matter  indeed." 

Laverick  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  declared,  "I  certainly  have 
no  idea  of  carrying  it  about  with  me.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  shall  part  with  it  to  no  one.  I  might  discuss  the  matter 
with  Mademoiselle  Idiale  as  soon  as  she  is  recovered.  I 
am  not  disposed  —  I  mean  no  offence,  sir  —  but  I  may 
say  frankly  that  I  am  not  disposed  even  to  do  as  much 
with  vou." 


LAVERICK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      239 

Laverick  rose  to  his  feet  with  the  obvious  intention  of 
leaving.  Lassen  followed  his  example  and  confronted 
him. 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  he  said,  "in  your  own  interests  you 
must  not  talk  like  that,  —  in  your  own  interests,  I  say." 

"At  any  rate,"  Laverick  remarked,  "my  interests  are 
better  looked  after  by  myself  than  by  strangers.  You 
must  forgive  my  adding,  Mr.  Lassen,  that  you  are  a 
stranger  to  me." 

"No  more  so  than  Mademoiselle  Idiale!"  the  little 
man  exclaimed. 

"Mademoiselle  Idiale  has  given  me  certain  proof  that 
she  knew  at  least  of  the  existence  of  this  document," 
Laverick  answered.  "She  has  established,  therefore,  a 
certain  claim  to  my  consideration.  You  announce  your- 
self as  Mademoiselle  Idiale's  deputy,  but  you  bring  me 
no  proof  of  the  fact,  nor,  in  any  case,  am  I  disposed  to 
treat  with  you.  You  must  allow  me  to  wish  you  good 
afternoon." 

Lassen  shook  his  head. 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  he  declared,  "you  are  too  impetuous. 
You  force  me  to  remind  you  that  your  own  position  as 
holder  of  that  document  is  not  a  very  secure  one.  All  the 
police  in  this  capital  are  searching  to-day  for  the  man 
who  killed  that  unfortunate  creature  who  was  found 
murdered  in  Crooked  Friars'  Alley.  If  they  could  find  the 
man  who  was  in  possession  of  his  pocket-book,  who  was 
in  possession  of  twenty  thousand  pounds  taken  from  the 
dead  man's  body  and  with  it  had  saved  his  business  and 
his  credit,  how  then,  do  you  think  ?  I  say  nothing  of  the 
document." 

Laverick  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He  realized,  how- 
ever, that  to  make  terms  with  this  man  was  impossible. 


24o  HAVOC 

Besides,  he  did  not  trust  him.  He  did  not  even  trust 
him  so  far  as  to  believe  him  the  accredited  envoy  of 
Mademoiselle. 

"My  unfortunate  position,"  Laverick  said,  "has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  matter.  Where  you  got  your 
information  from  I  cannot  say.  I  neither  accept  nor 
deny  it.  But  I  can  assure  you  that  I  am  not  to  be  intimi- 
dated. This  document  will  remain  in  my  possession  until 
some  one  can  show  me  a  very  good  reason  for  parting 
with  it." 

Lassen  beat  the  back  of  the  chair  against  which  he  was 
standing  with  his  clenched  fist. 

"A  reason  why  you  should  part  with  it !"  he  exclaimed 
fiercely.  "  Man,  it  stares  you  there  in  the  face !  If  you 
do  not  part  with  it,  you  will  be  arrested  within  twenty- 
four  hours  for  the  murder  or  complicity  in  the  murder 
of  Rudolph  Von  Behrling !  That  I  swear !  That  I  shall 
see  to  myself!" 

"In  which  case,"  Laverick  remarked,  "the  document 
will  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English  police." 

The  shot  told.  Laverick  could  have  laughed  as  he 
watched  its  effect  upon  his  listener.  Mr.  Lassen's  face 
was  black  with  unuttered  curses.  He  looked  as  though 
he  would  have  fallen  upon  Laverick  bodily. 

"What  do  you  know  about  its  contents?"  he  hissed. 
"Why  do  you  suppose  it  would  not  suit  my  purpose  to 
have  it  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English  police?" 

"I  can  see  no  reason  whatever,"  Laverick  answered, 
"why  I  should  take  you  into  my  confidence  as  to  how 
much  I  know  and  how  much  I  do  not  know.  I  wish  you 
good  afternoon,  Mr.  Lassen !  I  shall  be  ready  to  wait 
upon  Mademoiselle  Idiale  at  any  time  she  sends  for  me. 
But  in  case  it  should  interest  you  to  be  made  aware  of 


LAVERICK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      241 

the  fact,"  he  added,  with  a  little  bow,  "  I  am  not  going 
round  with  this  terrible  document  in  my  possession." 

He  moved  to  the  door.  Already  his  hand  was  upon  the 
knob  when  he  saw  the  movement  for  which  he  had  watched. 
Laverick,  with  a  single  bound,  was  upon  his  would-be 
assailant.  The  hand  which  had  already  closed  upon  the 
butt  of  the  small  revolver  was  gripped  as  though  in  a 
vice.  With  a  scream  of  pain  Lassen  dropped  the  weapon 
upon  the  floor.  Laverick  picked  it  up,  thrust  it  into  his 
coat  pocket  and,  taking  the  man's  collar  with  both  hands, 
he  shook  him  till  the  eyes  seemed  starting  from  his  head 
and  his  shrieks  of  fear  were  changed  into  moans.  Then 
he  flung  him  into  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  You  cowardly  brute  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  come 
of  the  breed  of  men  who  shoot  from  behind.  If  ever  I  lay 
my  hands  upon  you  again,  you  '11  be  lucky  if  you  live  to 
whimper  about  it." 

He  left  the  room  and  rang  for  the  lift.  He  saw  no  trace 
of  any  servants  in  the  hall,  nor  heard  any  sound  of  any 
one  moving.  From  Dover  Street  he  drove  straight  to 
Zoe's  house.  Keeping  the  cab  waiting,  he  knocked  at  the 
door.  She  opened  it  herself  at  once,  and  her  eyes  glowed 
with  pleasure. 

"  How  delightful !  "  she  cried.  "  Please  come  in.  Have 
you  come  to  take  me  to  the  theatre?  " 

He  followed  her  into  the  parlor  and  closed  the  door 
behind  them. 

"  Zoe,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  favor." 

"Me  a  favor?"  she  repeated.  "I  think  you  know 
how  happy  it  will  make  me  if  there  is  anything  —  anything 
at  all  in  the  world  that  I  could  do." 

"  A  week  ago,"  Laverick  continued.  "  I  was  an  honest 
but  not  very  successful  stockbroker,  with  a  natural  long- 


242  HAVOC 

ing  for  adventures  which  never  came  my  way.  Since  then 
things  have  altered.  I  have  stumbled  in  upon  the  most 
curious  little  chain  of  happenings  which  ever  became 
entwined  with  the  life  of  a  commonplace  being  like  my- 
self. The  net  result,  for  the  moment,  is  this.  Every  one 
is  trying  to  steal  from  me  a  certain  document  which  I 
have  in  my  pocket.  I  want  to  hide  it  for  the  night.  I 
cannot  go  to  the  police,  it  is  too  late  to  go  back  to  Chancery 
Lane,  and  I  have  an  instinctive  feeling  that  my  flat  is 
absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  my  enemies.  May  I  hide  my 
document  in  your  room?  I  do  not  believe  for  a  moment 
that  any  one  would  think  of  searching  here." 

"Of  course  you  may,"  she  answered.  "But  listen. 
Can  you  see  out  into  the  street  without  moving  very 
much*?" 

He  turned  his  head.  He  had  been  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  window,  and  Zoe  had  been  facing  it. 

"  Yes,  I  can  see  into  the  street,"  he  assented. 

"  Tell  me  —  you  see  that  taxi  on  the  other  side  of  the 
way?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 

"  It  was  n't  there  when  I  drove  up,"  he  remarked. 

"I  was  at  the  window,  looking  out,  when  you  came," 
she  said.  "It  followed  you  out  from  the  Square  into  this 
street.  Directly  you  stopped,  I  saw  the  man  put  on  the 
brake  and  pull  up  his  cab.  It  seemed  to  me  so  strange, 
just  as  though  some  one  were  watching  you  all  the  time." 

Laverick  stood  still,  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"Who  lives  in  the  house  opposite?"   he  asked. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  answered,  "that  there  are  no  very 
nice  people  who  live  round  here.  The  people  whom  I 
see  coming  in  and  out  of  that  house  are  not  nice  people 
at  all." 


LAVERICK'S    NARROW    ESCAPE      243 

"I  understand,"  he  said.  "Thank  you,  Zoe.  You 
are  right.  Whatever  I  do  with  my  precious  document,  I 
will  not  leave  it  here.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  thought, 
for  certain  reasons,  that  after  I  had  paid  my  last  call  this 
afternoon  I  should  not  be  followed  any  more.  Come  back 
with  me  and  I  will  give  you  some  dinner  before  you  go 
to  the  theatre." 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

"I  shall  love  it,"  she  declared.  "But  what  shall  you 
do  with  the  document  P" 

"I  shall  take  a  room  at  the  Milan  Hotel,"  he  said, 
"and  give  it  to  the  cashier.  They  have  a  wonderful  safe 
there.  It  is  the  best  thing  I  can  think  of.  Can  you  sug- 
gest anything?" 

She  considered  for  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  inside  ?"  she  asked. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  no  idea.  It  is  the  most  mysterious  document 
in  the  world,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  Why  not  open  it  and  read  it ?"  she  suggested;  "then 
you  will  know  exactly  what  it  is  all  about.  You  can  learn 
it  by  heart  and  tear  it  up." 

"  I  must  think  that  over,"  he  said.  "  One  second  before 
we  go  out." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  the  revolver  which  Lassen 
had  dropped.  It  was  a  perfect  little  weapon,  and  fully 
charged.  He  replaced  it  in  his  pocket,  keeping  his  finger 
upon  the  trigger. 

"  Now,  Zoe,  if  you  are  ready,"  he  said,  "  come  along." 

They  stepped  out  and  entered  the  taxi,  unmolested, 
and  Laverick  ordered : 

"To  the  Milan  Hotel." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LASSEN'S  TREACHERY  DISCOVERED 

ABOUT  twenty  minutes  past  six  on   the  same  evening, 
Bellamy,  his  clothes  thick  with  dust,  his  face  dark  with 
anger,  jumped  lightly  from  a  sixty  horse-power  car  and 
rang  the  bell  of  the  lift  at  number  15,  Dover  Street.    Ar- 
rived on  the  first  floor,  he  was  confronted  almost  immedi- 
ately by  the  sad-faced  man-servant  of  Mademoiselle  Idiale. 
"Mademoiselle  is  in?"   Bellamy  asked  quickly. 
The  man's  expression  was  one  of  sombre  regret. 
"Mademoiselle  is  spending  the  day  in  the  country,  sir." 
Bellamy  took  him   by  the   shoulders   and   flung  him 
against  the  wall. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  "I've  heard  that  before." 

He  walked  down  the  passage  and  knocked  softly  at 

the  door  of  Louise's  sleeping  apartment.    There  was  no 

answer.     He  knocked  again  and  listened  at  the  key-hole. 

There  was  some  movement  inside  but  no  one  spoke. 

"  Louise,"  he  cried  softly,  "  let  me  in.    It  is  I  —  David." 

Again   the   only   reply   was   the   strangest   of   sounds. 

Almost  it  seemed  as  though  a  woman  were  trying  to  speak 

with  a  hand  over  her  mouth.     Then  Bellamy  suddenly 

stiffened  into  rigid  attention.     There  were  voices  in  the 

small  reception  room,  —  the  voice  of  Henri,  the  butler, 

and    another.      Reluctantly    he    turned    away    from    the 

closed  door  and  walked  swiftly  down  the  passage.     He 

entered  the  reception  room  and  looked  around  him  in 

amazement.     It  was  still  in  disorder.     Lassen  sat  in  an 


LASSEN'S    TREACHERY  245 

easy-chair  with  a  tumbler  of  brandy  by  his  side.  Henri 
was  tying  a  bandage  around  his  head,  his  collar  was  torn, 
there  were  marks  of  blood  about  his  shirt.  Bellamy's 
eyes  sparkled.  He  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Come,"  he  exclaimed,  "after  all,  I  fancy  that  my 
arrival  is  somewhat  opportune ! " 

Henri  turned  towards  him  with  a  reproachful  gesture. 

"Monsieur  Lassen  has  been  unwell,  Monsieur,"  he 
said.  "He  has  had  a  fit  and  fallen  down." 

Bellamy  laughed  contemptuously. 

"I  think  I  can  reconstruct  the  scene  a  little  better  than 
that,"  he  declared.  "What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Lassen?" 

The  man  glared  at  him  viciously. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  he  said. 
"I  do  not  wish  to  speak  to  you.  I  am  ill.  You  had  better 
go  and  persuade  Mademoiselle  to  return.  She  is  at 
Dover,  waiting." 

"You  are  a  liar!"  Bellamy  answered.  "She  is  in  her 
room  now,  locked  up  — guarded,  perhaps,  by  one  of  your 
creatures.  I  have  been  half-way  to  Dover,  but  I  tumbled 
to  your  scheme  in  time,  Mr.  Lassen.  You  found  our 
friend  Laverick  a  trifle  awkward,  I  fancy." 

Lassen  swore  through  his  teeth  but  said  nothing. 

"From  your  somewhat  dishevelled  appearance,"  Bel- 
lamy continued,  "I  think  I  may  conclude  that  you  were 
not  able  to  come  to  any  amicable  arrangement  with  Made- 
moiselle's visitor.  He  declined  to  accept  you  as  her  proxy, 
I  imagine.  Still,  one  must  make  sure." 

He  advanced  quickly.    Lassen  shrank  back  in  his  chair. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  gruffly.  "Keep  him 
away  from  me,  Henri.  Ring  the  bell  for  your  other  man. 
This  fellow  will  do  me  a  mischief." 

"Not  I,"  Bellamy  answered  scornfully.     "Stay  where 


246  HAVOC 

you  are,  Henri.  To  your  other  accomplishments  I  have 
no  doubt  you  include  that  of  valeting.  Take  off  his  coat." 

"But,  Monsieur!"  Henri  protested. 

"I'm  d — d  if  he  shall !"  the  man  in  the  chair  snarled. 

Bellamy  turned  to  the  door,  locked  it,  and  put  the  key 
in  his  pocket. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  for  one  moment  believe 
that  Laverick  handed  over  to  you  the  document  you  were 
so  anxious  to  obtain.  On  the  other  hand,  I  imagine  that 
your  somewhat  battered  appearance  is  the  result  of  fruit- 
less argument  on  your  part  with  a  view  to  inducing  him 
to  do  so.  Nevertheless,  I  can  afford  to  run  no  risks.  The 
coat  first,  please,  Henri.  It  is  necessary  that  I  search  it 
thoroughly." 

There  was  a  brief  hesitation.  Bellamy's  hand  went 
reluctantly  into  his  pocket. 

"I  hate  to  seem  melodramatic,"  he  declared,  "and  I 
never  carry  firearms,  but  I  have  a  little  life-preserver  here 
which  I  have  learned  how  to  use  pretty  effectively.  Come, 
you  know,  it  is  n't  a  fair  fight.  You've  had  all  you  want, 
Lassen,  and  Henri  there  has  n't  the  muscle  of  a  chicken." 

Lassen  rose,  groaning,  to  his  feet  and  allowed  his  coat 
to  be  removed.  Bellamy  glanced  through  the  pockets, 
holding  one  letter  for  a  moment  in  his  hands  as  he  glanced 
at  the  address. 

"The  writing  of  our  friend  Streuss,"  he  remarked,  with 
a  smile.  "  No,  you  need  not  fear,  Lassen !  I  am  not 
going  to  read  it.  There  is  plenty  of  proof  of  your  treachery 
without  this." 

Lassen 's  face  was  livid  and  his  eyes  seemed  like  beads. 
Bellamy  handed  back  the  coat. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said.  "Nothing  there,  I  am 
glad  to  see  — or  in  the  waistcoat,"  he  added,  passing  his 


LASSEN'S    TREACHERY  247 

hands  over  it.  "I'll  trouble  you  to  stand  up  for  a  mo- 
ment, Mr.  Lassen." 

The  man  did  as  he  was  bid  and  Bellamy  felt  him 
all  over.  When  he  had  finished,  he  held  in  his  hand  a 
key. 

k<  The  key  of  Mademoiselle's  chamber,  I  have  no  doubt," 
he  announced,  "I  will  leave  you,  then,  while  I  see  what 
deviltry  you  have  been  up  to." 

He  walked  calmly  to  the  table  which  stood  by  the  window 
and  deliberately  cut  the  telephone  wire.  With  the  instru- 
ment under  his  arm,  he  left  the  room.  Lassen  blundered 
to  his  feet  as  though  to  intercept  him,  but  Bellamy's  eyes 
suddenly  flashed  red  fury,  and  the  life-preserver  of  which 
he  had  spoken  glittered  above  his  head.  Lassen  staggered 
away. 

"I'm  a  long-suffering  man,"  Bellamy  said,  "and  if  you 
don't  remember  now  that  you're  the  beaten  dog,  I  may 
lose  my  temper." 

He  locked  them  in,  walked  down  the  passage  and  opened 
the  door  of  Louise's  bedchamber  with  fingers  that  trembled 
a  little.  With  a  smothered  oath  he  cut  the  cord  from  the 
arms  of  the  maid  and  the  gag  from  her  mouth.  Louise, 
clad  in  a  loose  afternoon  gown,  was  lying  upon  the  bed, 
as  though  asleep.  Bellamy  saw  with  an  impulse  of  relief 
that  she  was  breathing  regularly. 

"This  is  Lassen's  work,  of  course!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  What  have  they  done  to  her  ?  " 

The  maid  spoke  thickly.  She  was  very  pale,  and  un- 
steady upon  her  feet. 

"  It  was  something  they  put  in  her  wine,"  she  faltered. 
"  I  heard  Mr.  Lassen  say  that  it  would  keep  her  quiet 
for  three  or  four  hours.  I  think  —  I  think  that  she  is 
waking  now." 


248  HAVOC 

Louise  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  them  with  amaze- 
ment. Bellamy  sat  by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  supported 
her  with  his  arm. 

"It  is  only  a  skirmish,  dear,"  he  whispered,  "and  it  is 
a  drawn  battle,  although  you  got  the  worst  of  it." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  head,  struggling  to  remember. 

"Mr.  Laverick  has  been  here?"   she  asked. 

"He  has.  Your  friend  Lassen  has  been  taking  a  hand 
in  the  game.  I  came  here  to  find  you  like  this  and  An- 
nette tied  up.  Henri  is  in  with  him.  What  has  become 
of  your  other  servants  I  don't  know." 

"Henri  asked  for  a  holiday  for  them,"  she  said,  the 
color  slowly  returning  to  her  cheeks.  "I  begin  to  under- 
stand. But  tell  me,  what  happened  when  Mr.  Laverick 
came?" 

"I  can  only  guess,"  Bellamy  answered,  "but  it  seems 
that  Lassen  must  have  received  him  as  though  with  your 
authority." 

"  And  what  then  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"I  am  almost  certain,"  Bellamy  declared,  "that  La- 
verick refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  I  received 
a  wire  from  Dover  to  say  that  you  were  on  your  way  home, 
and  asking  me  to  meet  you  at  the  Lord  Warden  Hotel. 
I  borrowed  Montresor's  racing-car,  but  I  sent  telegrams, 
and  I  was  pretty  soon  on  my  way  back.  When  I  arrived 
here,  I  found  Lassen  in  your  little  room  with  a  broken 
head.  Evidently  Laverick  and  he  had  a  scrimmage  and 
he  got  the  worst  of  it.  I  have  searched  him  to  his  bones 
and  he  has  no  paper.  Laverick  brought  it  here,  without 
a  doubt,  and  has  taken  it  away  again." 

She  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Go  and  let  Lassen  out,"  she  said.  "Tell  him  he  must 
never  come  here  again.  I  will  see  him  at  the  Opera  House 


LASSEN'S    TREACHERY  249 

to-night  or  to-morrow  night  —  that  is,  if  I  can  get  there. 
I  do  not  know  whether  I  shall  feel  fit  to  sing." 

"I  shall  take  the  liberty,  also,"  remarked  Bellamy, 
"  of  kicking  Henri  out." 

Louise  sighed. 

"He  was  such  a  good  servant.  I  think  it  must  have 
cost  our  friend  Streuss  a  good  deal  to  buy  Henri.  You 
will  come  back  to  me  when  you  have  finished  with  them  ?  " 

Bellamy  made  short  work  of  his  discomfited  prisoners. 
Lassen  was  surly  but  only  eager  to  depart;  Henri  was 
resigned  but  tearful.  Almost  as  they  went  the  other  ser- 
vants began  to  return  from  their  various  missions.  Bel- 
lamy wrent  back  to  Louise,  who  was  lying  down  again 
and  drinking  some  tea.  She  motioned  Bellamy  to  come 
over  to  her  side. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  do  what  I  ought  to  have  done  before," 
Bellamy  answered.  "Laverick's  connection  with  this 
affair  is  suspicious  enough,  but  after  all  he  is  a  sportsman 
and  an  Englishman.  I  am  going  to  tell  him  what  that 
envelope  contains  —  tell  him  the  truth." 

"You  are  right! "she  exclaimed.  "Whatever  he  may 
have  done,  if  you  tell  him  the  truth  he  will  give  you  that 
document.  I  am  sure  of  it.  Do  you  know  where  to  find 
him?" 

"I  shall  go  to  his  rooms,"  Bellamy  declared.  "I  must 
be  quick,  too,  for  Lassen  is  free  —  they  will  know  that 
he  has  failed." 

"  Come  back  to  me,  David,"  she  begged,  and  he  kissed 
ter  fingers  and  hurried  out. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    CONTEST    FOE    THE    PAPERS 

LAVERICK,  sitting  with  Zoe  at  dinner,  caught  his  com- 
panion looking  around  the  restaurant  with  an  expression 
in  her  face  which  he  did  not  who'ly  understand. 

"Something  is  the  matter  with  you  this  evening,  Zoe," 
he  said  anxiously.  "Tell  me  what  it  is.  You  don't 
like  this  place,  perhaps?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"  It  is  your  dinner,  then,  or  me  ?  "  he  persisted.  "  Come, 
out  with  it.  Have  n't  we  promised  to  tell  each  other  the 
truth  always?" 

The  pink  color  came  slowly  into  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes, 
raised  for  a  moment  to  his,  were  almost  reproachful. 

"You  know  very  well  that  it  is  not  anything  to  do  with 
you,"  she  whispered.  "You  are  too  kind  to  me  all  the 
time.  Only,"  she  went  on,  a  little  hesitatingly,  "don't 
you  realize  —  can't  you  see  how  differently  most  of  the 
girls  here  are  dressed  ?  I  don't  mind  so  much  for  myself 
—  but  you  —  you  have  so  many  friends.  You  keep  on 
seeing  people  whom  you  know.  I  am  afraid  they  will 
think  that  I  ought  not  to  be  here." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  mingled,  perhaps,  with 
compunction.  For  the  first  time  he  appreciated  the  actual 
shabbiness  of  her  clothes.  Everything  about  her  was  so 
neat  —  pathetically  neat,  as  it  seemed  to  him  in  one  illu- 
minating moment  of  realization.  The  white  linen  collar, 
notwithstanding  its  frayed  edges,  was  spotlessly  clean. 


THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS  251 

The  black  bow  was  carefully  tied  to  conceal  its  worn 
parts.  Her  gloves  had  been  stitched  a  good  many  tunes. 
Her  gown,  although  it  was  tidy,  was  old-fashioned  and  had 
distinctly  seen  its  best  days.  He  suddenly  recognized  the 
effort  —  the  almost  despairing  effort  —  which  her  toilette 
had  cost  her. 

"I  don't  think  that  men  notice  these  things,"  he  said 
simply.  "  To  me  you  look  just  as  you  should  look  —  and 
I  would  n't  change  places  with  any  other  man  in  the  room 
for  a  great  deal." 

Her  eyes  were  soft  —  perilously  soft  —  as  she  looked 
at  him  with  uplifted  eyebrows  and  a  faint  smile  struggling 
at  the  corners  of  her  lips.  A  wave  of  tenderness  crept 
into  his  heart.  What  a  brave  little  child  she  was ! 

"  You  will  quite  spoil  me  if  you  make  such  nice  speeches,'* 
she  murmured. 

"Anyhow,"  he  went  on,  speaking  with  decision,  "so 
long  as  you  feel  like  that,  you  are  going  to  have  a  new 
gown  —  or  two  —  and  a  new  hat,  and  you  are  going  to 
have  them  at  once.  They  are  going  to  be  bought  with 
your  brother's  money,  mind.  Shall  I  come  shopping  with 
you?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Mind,  it  is  partly  for  your  sake  that  I  give  in,"  she 
said.  "It  would  be  lovely  to  have  you  come,  but  you 
would  spend  far  too  much  money.  You  really  mean  it 
all?" 

"  Absolutely,"  he  answered.    "  I  insist  upon  it." 

She  leaned  towards  him  with  dancing  eyes.  After  all, 
she  was  very  much  of  a  child.  The  prospect  of  a  new 
gown,  now  that  she  permitted  herself  to  think  of  it,  was 
enthralling. 

"I  might  get  a  coat  and  skirt."  she  remarked  thought- 


252  HAVOC 

fully,  "and  a  simple  white  dress.  A  black  hat  would  do 
for  both  of  them,  then." 

"Don't  you  study  your  brother  too  much,"  Laverick 
declared.  "  His  stock  is  going  up  all  the  time." 

"  Tell  me  your  favorite  color,"  she  begged  confidentially. 

"I  can't  conceive  your  looking  nicer  than  you  do  in 
black,"  he  replied. 

She  made  a  wry  face. 

"  I  suppose  it  must  be  black,"  she  murmured  doubtfully. 
"It  is  much  more  economical  than  anything — " 

She  broke  off  to  bow  to  a  stout,  red-faced  man  who, 
after  a  rude  stare,  had  greeted  her  with  a  patronizing  nod. 

Laverick  frowned. 

"Who  is  that  fellow?"  he  asked. 

"Mr.  Heepman,  our  stage-manager,"  Zoe  answered,  a 
little  timidly. 

"Is  there  any  particular  reason  why  he  should  behave 
like  a  boor?"  Laverick  continued,  raising  his  voice  a 
little. 

She  caught  at  his  arm  in  terror.  The  man  was  sitting 
at  the  next  table. 

"  Don't,  please !  "  she  implored.  "  He  might  hear  you. 
He  is,  just  behind  there." 

Laverick  half  turned  in  his  chair.  She  guessed  what 
he  was  about  to  say,  and  went  on  rapidly. 

"He  has  been  so  foolish,"  she  whispered.  "He  has 
asked  me  so  often  to  go  out  with  him.  And  he  could  get 
me  sent  away,  if  he  wanted,  any  time.  He  almost  threat- 
ened it,  the  last  time  I  refused.  Now  that  he  has  seen  me 
with  you,  he  will  be  worse  than  ever." 

Laverick's  face  darkened,  and  there  was  a  peculiar 
flash  in  his  eyes.  The  man  was  certainly  looking  at  them 
in  a  rude  manner. 


THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS  253 

"  There  are  so  many  of  the  girls  who  would  only  be  too 
pleased  to  go  with  him,"  Zoe  continued,  in  a  terrified 
undertone.  "  I  can't  think  why  he  bothers  me." 

"I  can,"  Laverick  muttered.  "Let's  forget  about  the 
brute." 

But  the  dinner  was  already  spoiled  for  Zoe,  so  Laverick 
paid  the  bill  a  few  minutes  later,  and  walked  across  to  the 
stage-door  of  the  theatre  with  her.  Her  little  hand,  when 
she  gave  it  to  him  at  parting,  was  quite  cold. 

"I'm  as  nervous  as  I  can  be,"  she  confessed.  "Mr. 
Heepman  will  be  watching  all  the  night  for  something  to 
find  fault  with  me  about." 

"Don't  you  let  him  bully  you,"  Laverick  begged. 

"I  won't,"  she  promised.  "Good-bye!  Thanks  so 
much  for  my  dinner." 

She  turned  away  with  a  brave  attempt  at  a  smile,  but 
it  was  only  an  attempt.  Laverick  walked  on  to  his  club. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  dining-room  whom  he  knew, 
and  the  card-room  was  empty.  He  played  one  game  of 
billiards,  but  he  played  badly.  He  was  upset.  His  nerves 
were  wrong  he  told  himself,  and  little  wonder.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  chance  of  a  rubber  at  bridge,  so  he  sallied 
out  again  and  walked  aimlessly  towards  Covent  Garden. 
Outside  the  Opera  House  he  hesitated  and  finally  entered, 
yielding  to  an  impulse  the  nature  of  which  he  scarcely 
recognized.  While  he  was  inquiring  about  a  stall,  a  small 
printed  notice  was  thrust  into  his  hand.  He  read  it  with 
a  slight  start. 

We  regret  to  announce  that  owing  to  indisposition 
Mademoiselle  Idiale  will  not  be  able  to  appear  this 
evening.  The  part  of  Delilah  will  be  taken  by 
Mademoiselle  Blanche  Temoigne,  late  of  the  Royal 
Opera  House,  St.  Petersburg. 


254  HAVOC 

Ten  minutes  later,  Laverick  rang  the  bell  of  her 
flat  in  Dover  Street.  A  strange  man-servant  answered 
him. 

"  I  came  to  inquire  after  Mademoiselle  Idiale,"  Laverick 
said. 

The  man  held  out  a  tray  on  which  was  already  a  small 
heap  of  cards.  Laverick,  however,  retained  his. 

"I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  take  mine  in  to  her," 
he  said.  "  I  think  it  is  just  likely  that  she  may  see  me  for 
a  moment." 

The  servant's  attitude  was  one  of  civil  but  unconcealed 
hostility.  He  would  have  closed  the  door  had  not  Laverick 
already  passed  over  the  threshold. 

"Madame  is  not  well  enough  to  receive  visitors,  sir," 
the  man  declared.  "She  shall  have  your  card  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"I  should  like  her  to  have  it  now,"  Laverick  persisted, 
drawing  a  five-pound  note  from  his  pocket. 

The  man  looked  at  the  note  longingly. 

"It  would  be  only  waste  of  time,  sir,"  he  declared. 
"  Mademoiselle  is  confined  to  her  bedroom  and  my  orders 
are  absolute." 

"  You  are  not  the  man  who  was  here  earlier  in  the  day," 
Laverick  remarked.  "I  wonder,"  he  continued,  with 
a  sudden  inspiration,  "  whether  you  are  not  Mr.  Bellamy's 
servant?" 

"That  is  so,  sir.  Mr.  Bellamy  has  sent  me  here  to  see 
that  no  one  has  access  to  Mademoiselle  Idiale." 

"Then  there  is  no  harm  whatever  in  taking  in  my  card," 
Laverick  declared  convincingly.  "You  can  put  that 
note  in  your  pocket.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  Made- 
moiselle Idiale  will  see  me,  and  that  your  master  would 
wish  her  to  do  so." 


THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS  255 

"I  will  take  the  risk,  sir,"  the  man  decided,  "  but  the 
orders  I  have  received  were  stringent." 

He  disappeared  and  was  gone  for  several  moments. 
When  he  came  back  he  was  accompanied  by  a  pale-faced 
woman  dressed  in  black,  obviously  a  maid. 

"Monsieur  Laverick,"  she  said,  "Mademoiselle  Idiaie 
will  receive  you.  If  you  will  come  this  way?" 

She  opened  the  door  of  the  little  reception-room,  and 
Laverick  followed  her.  The  man  returned  to  his  place 
in  the  hall. 

"Madame  will  be  here  in  a  moment,"  the  maid  said. 
"She  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  but  she  has  been  very  badly 
frightened." 

Laverick  bowed  sympathetically.  The  woman  herself 
was  gray-faced,  terror-stricken. 

"It  is  Monsieur  Lassen,  the  manager  of  Madame,  who 
has  caused  a  great  deal  of  trouble  here,"  she  said. 
"  Madame  never  trusted  him  and  now  we  have  discovered 
that  he  is  a  spy." 

The  woman  seemed  to  fade  away.  The  door  of  the 
inner  room  was  opened  and  Louise  came  out.  She  was 
still  exceedingly  pale,  and  there  were  dark  rims  under  her 
eyes.  She  came  across  the  room  with  outstretched  hands. 
There  was  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  her  pleasure. 

"You  have  seen  Mr.  Bellamy?"  she  asked. 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"No,  I  have  seen  nothing  of  Bellamy  to-day.  I  came 
to  call  upon  you  this  afternoon." 

She  wrung  her  hands. 

"You  understand,  of  course!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  did 
not  trust  Lassen,  but  I  never  imagined  anything  like  this. 
He  is  an  Austrian.  Only  a  few  hours  ago  I  learned  that 
he  is  one  of  their  most  heavily  paid  spies.  Streuss  got 


256  HAVOC 

hold  of  him.  But  there,  I  forgot  —  you  do  not  under- 
stand this.  It  is  enough  that  he  laid  a  plot  to  get  that 
document  from  you.  Where  is  it,  Mr.  Laverick?  You 
have  brought  it  now?" 

"Why,  no,"  Laverick  answered,  "I  have  not." 

Her  eyes  were  round  with  terror.  She  held  out  her 
hands  as  though  to  keep  away  some  tormenting  thought. 

"Where  is  it?"  she  cried.  "You  have  not  parted  with 
it?" 

"I  have  not,"  Laverick  replied  gravely.  "It  is  in  the 
safe  deposit  of  a  hotel  to  which  I  have  moved." 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

"  You  are  not  well,"  Laverick  said.  "  Let  me  help  you 
to  a  chair." 

She  sat  down  wearily. 

"Why  have  you  moved  to  a  hotel ?"   she  asked. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  Laverick  answered,  "I  seem 
to  have  wandered  into  a  sort  of  modern  Arabian  Nights. 
Three  times  to-day  attempts  have  been  made  to  get  that 
document  from  me  by  force.  I  have  been  followed  where- 
ever  I  went.  I  felt  that  it  was  not  safe  in  my  chambers,  so 
I  moved  to  a  hotel  and  deposited  it  in  their  strong-room. 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  best  thing  I  can  do 
is  to  open  it  to-morrow  morning,  and  decide  for  myself 
as  to  its  destination." 

Louise  sat  quite  still  for  several  moments.  Then  she 
opened  her  eyes. 

"What  you  say  is  an  immense  relief  to  me,  Mr.  Lave- 
rick," she  declared.  "  I  perceive  now  that  we  have  made 
a  mistake.  We  should  have  told  you  the  whole  truth  from 
the  first.  This  afternoon  when  Mr.  Bellamy  left  me,  it 
was  to  come  to  you  and  tell  you  everything." 

Laverick  listened  gravely. 


THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS  257 

"Really,"  he  said,  "it  seems  to  me  the  wisest  course. 
I  have  n't  the  least  desire  to  keep  the  document.  I  can- 
not think  why  Bellamy  did  not  treat  me  with  confidence 
from  the  first  —  " 

He  stopped  short.  Suddenly  he  understood.  Some- 
thing in  Louise's  face  gave  him  the  hint. 

"Of  course!"  he  murmured  to  himself. 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  Louise  said  quietly,  "in  this  matter  I 
am  no  man's  judge,  yet,  as  you  and  I  know  well,  that  paper 
could  have  come  into  your  hands  in  one  way,  and  one  way 
only.  There  may  be  some  explanation.  If  so,  it  is  for 
you  to  offer  it  or  not,  as  you  think  best.  Mr.  Bellamy  and 
I  are  allies  in  this  matter.  It  is  not  our  business  to  inter- 
fere with  the  course  of  justice.  You  will  run  no  risk  in 
parting  with  that  paper." 

"Where  can  I  see  Bellamy?"  Laverick  inquired,  ris- 
ing and  taking  up  his  hat. 

"He  would  go  straight  to  your  rooms,"  she  answered. 
"Did  you  leave  word  there  where  you  had  gone?" 

"Purposely  I  did  not,"  Laverick  replied.  "I  had 
better  try  and  find  him,  perhaps." 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  she  announced.  "No  wonder 
that  you  feel  yourself  to  have  wandered  into  the  Arabian 
Nights,  Mr.  Laverick.  There  are  two  sets  of  spies  who 
follow  you  everywhere  —  two  sets  that  I  know  of.  There 
may  be  another." 

"You  think  that  Bellamy  will  find  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Then  I'll  go  back  to  the  hotel  and  wait." 

She  hurried  him  away,  but  at  the  door  she  detained  him 
for  a  moment. 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  earnestly, 
"somehow  or  other  I  cannot  help  believing  that  you  are 
an  honest  man." 


258  HAVOC 

Laverick  sighed.  He  opened  his  lips  but  closed  them 
again. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mademoiselle,"  he  declared 
simply. 

Laverick,  as  he  entered  the  reception  hall  at  the  Milan 
Hotel,  noticed  a  man  leaning  over  the  cashier's  desk  talk- 
ing confidentially  to  the  clerk  in  charge.  The  latter  recog- 
nized Laverick  with  obvious  relief,  and  at  once  directed 
his  questioner's  attention  to  him.  Kahn  turned  swiftly 
around  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  came  smiling 
towards  Laverick  with  the  apparent  intention  of  accost- 
ing him.  He  was  correctly  garbed,  tall  and  fair,  with 
every  appearance  of  being  a  man  of  breeding.  He  glanced 
at  Laverick  carelessly  as  he  passed,  but,  as  though  chang- 
ing his  original  purpose,  made  no  attempt  to  address  him. 
The. cashier,  who  had  been  watching,  gave  vent  to  a  little 
exclamation  of  surprise  and  sprang  over  the  counter.  He 
approached  Laverick  hastily. 

"Dp  you  know  that  gentleman  just  going  out,  sir?'* 
he  asked. 

"  I  never  saw  him  before  in  my  life,"  Laverick  answered. 
"Why?" 

"Is  this  your  handwriting,  sir?"  the  man  inquired, 
touching  with  his  forefinger  the  half  sheet  of  note-paper 
which  he  had  been  carrying. 

Laverick  read  quickly,  — 

To  the  Cashier  at  the  Milan  Hotel,  —  Deliver  to  bearer 
document  deposited  with  you.  STEPHEN  LAVERICK. 

"  It  is  not,"  he  declared  promptly.  "  It  is  an  impudent 
forgery.  Good  God !  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
parted  with  my  property  to  —  " 


THE  CONTEST  FOR  THE  PAPERS  259 

The  cashier  stopped  his  breathless  question. 

"  I  have  n't  parted  with  anything,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I 
was  just  wondering  what  to  do  when  you  came  in.  I'd 
no  reason  to  believe  that  the  signature  was  a  forgery,  but 
I  did  n't  like  the  look  of  it,  somehow.  We'd  better  be 
after  him.  Come  along,  sir." 

They  hurried  outside.  The  man  was  nowhere  in  sight. 
The  cashier  summoned  the  head  porter. 

"  A  gentleman  has  just  come  out,"  he  exclaimed,  - 
"tall  and  fair,  very  carefully  dressed,  with  a  single  eye- 
glass!    Which  way  did  he  go?" 

"He's  just  driven  off  in  a  big  Daimler  car,  sir,"  the 
porter  answered.  "  I  noticed  him  particularly.  He  spoke 
to  the  chauffeur  in  Austrian." 

Laverick  looked  out  into  the  Strand. 

"Can't  we  stop  him?"    he  asked  rapidly. 

The  porter  smiled  as  he  shook  his  head. 

"Not  the  ghost  of  a  chance,  sir.  He  shot  round  the 
corner  there  as  though  he  were  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and 
went  the  wrong  side  of  the  island.  I  heard  the  police  call- 
ing to  him.  I  hope  there's  nothing  wrong,  Mr.  Dean?" 

The  cashier  hesitated  and  glanced  at  Laverick. 

"Nothing  much,"  Laverick  answered.  "We  should 
have  liked  to  have  asked  him  a  question  —  that  is  all." 

Bellamy  came  out  from  the  hotel  and  paused  to  light 
a  cigarette. 

"How  are  you,  Laverick?"  he  said  quietly.  "Nothing 
the  matter,  I  hope?" 

"Nothing  worth  mentioning,"  Laverick  replied. 

The  cashier  returned  to  his  duties.  The  two  men  were 
alone.  Bellamy,  most  carefully  dressed,  with  his  silver- 
headed  cane  under  his  arm,  and  his  silk  hat  at  precisely 
the  correct  angle,  seemed  very  far  removed  from  the  world 


260  HAVOC 

of  intrigue  into  which  Laverick  felt  himself  to  have 
blundered.  He  looked  down  for  a  moment  at  the  tips  of 
his  patent  shoes  and  up  again  at  the  sky,  as  though  anxious 
about  the  weather. 

"What  about  a  drink,  Laverick?"  he  asked  non- 
chalantly. 

"Delighted!"  Laverick  assented. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

MISS    LENEVEU'S    MESSAGE 

THE  two  men  stepped  back  into  the  hotel.  The  cashier 
had  returned  to  his  desk,  and  the  incident  which  had 
just  transpired  seemed  to  have  passed  unnoticed.  Never- 
theless, Laverick  felt  that  the  studied  indifference  of  his 
companion's  manner  had  its  significance,  and  he  endeav- 
ored to  imitate  it. 

"Shall  we  go  through  into  the  bar?"  he  asked. 
"There's  very  seldom  any  one  there  at  this  time." 

"Anywhere  you  say,"  Bellamy  answered.  "It's  years 
since  we  had  a  drink  together." 

They  passed  into  the  inner  room  and,  finding  it  empty, 
drew  two  chairs  into  the  further  corner.  Bellamy  sum- 
moned the  waiter. 

"Two  whiskies  and  sodas  quick,  Tim,"  he  ordered. 
"Now,  Laverick,  listen  to  me,"  he  added,  as  the  waiter 
turned  away.  "We  are  alone  for  the  moment  but  it  won't 
be  for  long.  You  know  very  well  that  it  was  n't  to  renew 
our  schoolboy  acquaintance  that  I've  asked  you  to  come 
in  here  with  me." 

Laverick  drew  a  little  breath. 

"  Please  go  on,"  he  said.  "  I  am  as  anxious  as  you  can 
be  to  grasp  this  affair  properly." 

"When  we  left  school,"  Bellamy  remarked,  "you  were 
destined  for  the  Stock  Exchange.  I  went  first  to  Magdalen. 
Did  vou  ever  hear  what  became  of  me  afterwards?" 


262  HAVOC 

"I  always  understood,"  Laverick  answered,  "that  you 
went  into  one  of  the  Government  offices." 

"Quite  right,"  Bellamy  assented.  "I  did.  At  this 
moment  I  have  the  honor  to  serve  His  Majesty." 

"Two  thousand  a  year  and  two  hours  work  a  day." 
Laverick  laughed.  "I  know  the  sort  of  thing." 

"You  evidently  don't,"  Bellamy  answered.  "I  often 
work  twenty  hours  a  day,  I  don't  get  half  two  thousand  a 
year,  and  most  of  the  time  I  carry  my  life  in  my  hands. 
When  I  am  working  —  and  I  am  working  now  —  I  am 
never  sure  of  the  morrow." 

Laverick  looked  at  him  incredulously. 

"You're  not  joking,  Bellamy?"  he  asked. 

"Not  by  any  manner  of  means.  I  have  the  honor  to 
be  a  humble  member  of  His  Majesty's  Secret  Service." 

Laverick  glanced  at  his  companion  wonderingly. 

"  I  really  did  n't  know,"  he  said,  "  that  such  a  service 
had  any  actual  existence  except  in  novels." 

"I  am  a  proof  to  the  contrary,"  Bellamy  declared 
grimly.  "Abroad,  I  run  always  the  risk  of  being  dubbed 
a  spy  and  treated  like  one.  At  home,  I  am  simply  the 
head  of  the  A2  Branch  of  the  Secret  Service.  Here  come 
our  drinks." 

Laverick  raised  his  whiskey  and  soda  to  his  lips 
mechanically. 

"  Here's  luck  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  go  on,  Bellamy," 
he  continued.  "The  waiter  can't  overhear." 

Bellamy  smiled. 

"Tim  is  one  of  the  few  persons  in  the  place,"  he  said, 
"whom  one  can  trust.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  has  been 
very  useful  to  me  more  than  once.  Now  listen  to  me 
attentively,  Laverick.  I  am  going  to  speak  to  you  as  one 
man  to  another." 


MISS    LENEVEU'S    MESSAGE         263 

Laverick  nodded. 

"I  am  ready,"  he  said. 

"  Last  Monday,"  Bellamy  went  on,  leaning  forward  and 
speaking  in  a  soft  but  very  distinct  undertone,  "a  man 
was  murdered  late  at  night  in  the  heart  of  the  city  — 
within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  Stock  Exchange.  The 
papers  called  it  a  mysterious  murder.  No  one  knows 
who  the  man  was,  or  who  committed  the  crime,  or  why. 
You  and  I,  Laverick,  both  know  a  little  more  than  the 
rest  of  the  world." 

"Well?" 

"The  murder,"  Bellamy  continued,  with  a  strange 
light  in  his  eyes,  "was  accomplished  only  a  stone's  throw 
from  your  office." 

Laverick  lit  a  cigarette  and  threw  the  match  away. 

"  Horrible  affair  it  was,"  he  remarked. 

Bellamy  glanced  toward  the  door,  —  a  man  had  looked 
in  and  departed. 

"Enough  of  this  fencing,  Laverick,"  he  said.  "A  theft 
was  committed  from  the  person  of  that  murdered  man, 
of  which  the  general  public  knows  nothing.  A  pocket- 
book  was  stolen  from  him  containing  twenty  thousand 
pounds  and  a  sealed  document.  As  to  who  murdered 
the  man,  I  want  you  to  understand  that  that  is  not  my 
affair.  As  to  what  has  become  of  that  twenty  thousand 
pounds,  I  have  not  the  slightest  curiosity.  I  want  the 
document." 

"What  claim  have  you  to  it?"   Laverick  asked  quickly. 

"  I  might  retort,  but  I  will  not,"  Bellamy  replied.  "  Time 
is  too  short.  I  will  answer  you  by  explaining  who  the  man 
was  and  what  that  document  consists  of.  The  man's 
name  was  Von  Behrling,  and  he  was  a  trusted  agent  of 
the  Austrian  Secret  Service.  The  document  of  which  he 


264  HAVOC 

was  robbed  contains  a  verbatim  report  of  the  conference 
which  recently  took  place  at  Vienna  between  the  Emperor 
of  Germany,  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  the  Czar  of 
Russia.  It  contains  the  details  of  a  plot  against  this 
country  and  the  undertakings  entered  into  by  those  seve- 
ral Powers.  I  want  that  document,  Laverick.  Have  I 
established  my  claim?" 

"You  have,"  Laverick  answered.  "Why  on  earth 
did  n't  you  come  to  me  before  ?  Don't  you  believe  that 
I  should  have  listened  to  you  as  readily  as  to  Mademoiselle 
Idiale?" 

"I  wish  that  I  had  come,"  Bellamy  admitted,  "and  yet, 
here  is  the  truth,  Laverick,  because  the  truth  is  best. 
Twenty-two  years  lie  between  us  and  the  time  when  we 
knew  anything  of  one  another.  To  me,  therefore,  you  are 
a  stranger.  I  had  my  spies  following  Von  Behrling  that 
night.  I  know  that  you  took  the  pocket-book  from  his 
dead  body.  If  you  did  not  murder  him  yourself,  the  deed 
was  done  by  an  accomplice  of  yours.  How  was  I  to  trust 
you  ?  We  are  speaking  naked  words,  my  friend.  We  are 
dealing  with  naked  truths.  To  me  you  were  a  murderer 
and  a  thief.  A  word  from  me  and  you  would  have  realized 
the  value  of  that  document.  I  tell  you  frankly  that 
Austria  would  give  you  almost  any  sum  for  it  to-day." 

Laverick,  strong  man  though  he  was,  was  conscious  of 
a  sudden  weakness.  He  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead 
and  drew  it  away  —  wet.  He  struggled  desperately  for 
self-control. 

"Bellamy,"  he  said,  "here's  truth  for  truth.  I  am  not 
on  my  trial  before  you.  Believe  me,  man,  for  God's 
sake!" 

"I'll  try,"  Bellamy  promised.    " Go  on." 

"That  night  I  stayed  at  my  office  late  because  I  saw 


MISS    LENEVEU'S    MESSAGE         265 

ruin  before  me  on  the  morrow.  I  left  it  meaning  to  go 
straight  home.  I  lit  a  cigarette  near  that  entry,  and  by 
the  light  of  a  match,  as  I  was  throwing  it  away,  I  saw  the 
murdered  man.  I  think  for  a  time  I  was  paralyzed.  The 
pocket-book  was  half  dragged  out  from  his  pocket.  Why 
I  looked  inside  it  I  don't  know.  I  had  some  sort  of  wild 
idea  that  I  must  find  out  who  he  was.  Mind  you,  though, 
I  should  have  given  the  alarm  at  once,  but  there  was  n't  a 
soul  in  the  street.  There  was  a  man  lurking  in  the  entry 
and  I  chased  him,  unsuccessfully.  When  I  came  back, 
the  body  was  still  there  and  the  street  empty.  I  looked 
inside  that  pocket-book,  which  would  have  been  in  the 
possession  of  his  murderer  but  for  my  unexpected  appear- 
ance. I  saw  the  notes  there.  Once  more  I  went  out  into 
the  street.  I  gave  no  alarm,  —  I  am  not  attempting  to 
explain  why.  I  was  like  a  man  made  suddenly  mad.  I 
went  back  to  my  office  and  shut  myself  in." 

Bellamy  pointed  to  the  glasses  silently.  The  waiter 
came  forward  and  refilled  them. 

"Bellamy,"  Laverick  continued,  "your  career  and 
mine  lie  far  apart,  and  yet,  at  their  backbone,  as  there  is 
at  the  backbone  of  every  man's  life,  there  must  be  some- 
thing of  the  same  sort  of  ambition.  My  grandfather  lived 
and  died  a  member  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  honored  and 
well  thought  of.  My  father  followed  in  his  footsteps.  I, 
too,  was  there.  Without  becoming  wealthy,  the  name  I 
bear  has  become  known  and  respected.  Failure,  what- 
ever one  may  say,  means  a  broken  life  and  a  broken 
honor.  I  sat  in  my  office  and  I  knew  that  the  use  of  those 
notes  for  a  few  days  might  save  me  from  disgrace,  might 
keep  the  name,  which  my  father  and  grandfather  had 
guarded  so  jealously,  free  from  shame.  I  would  have 
paid  any  price  for  the  use  of  them.  I  would  have  paid 


266  HAVOC 

with  my  life,  if  that  had  been  possible.  Think  of  the  risk 
I  ran  —  the  danger  I  am  now  in.  I  deposited  those  notes 
on  the  morrow  as  security  at  my  bank,  and  I  met  all  my 
engagements.  The  crisis  is  over!  Those  notes  are  in  a 
safe  deposit  vault  in  Chancery  Lane !  I  only  wish  to 
Heaven  that  I  could  find  the  owner!" 

"And  the  document?"  Bellamy  asked.  "The  docu- 
ment?" 

"It  is  in  the  hotel  safe,"  Laverick  answered. 

Bellamy  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief.  Then  he  emptied 
his  tumbler  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Laverick,"  he  declared,  "I  believe  you." 

"Thank  God!"  Laverick  muttered. 

"  I  am  no  crime  investigator,"  Bellamy  went  on  thought- 
fully. "As  to  who  killed  Von  Behrling,  or  why,  I  can- 
not now  form  the  slightest  idea.  That  twenty  thousand 
pounds,  Laverick,  is  Secret  Service  money,  paid  by  me 
to  Von  Behrling  only  half-an-hour  before  he  was  mur- 
dered, in  a  small  restaurant  there,  for  what  I  supposed  to 
be  the  document.  He  deceived  me  by  making  up  a  false 
packet.  The  real  one  he  kept.  He  deserved  to  die,  and 
I  am  glad  he  is  dead." 

Laverick's  face  was  suddenly  hopeful. 

"Then  you  can  take  these  notes  !"  he  exclaimed. 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"In  a  few  days,"  he  said,  "I  shall  take  you  with  me  to 
a  friend  of  mine  —  a  Cabinet  Minister.  You  shall  tell 
him  the  story  exactly  as  you've  told  it  to  me,  and  restore 
the  money." 

Laverick  laughed  like  a  child. 

"Don't  think  I'm  mad,"  he  apologized,  "but  I  am  not 
a  person  like  you,  Bellamy, — used  to  adventures  and 
this  sort  of  wild  happenings.  I'm  a  steady-going,  matter- 


MISS    LENEVEU'S    MESSAGE         267 

of-fact  Englishman,  and  this  thing  has  been  like  a  hateful 
nightmare  to  me.  I  can't  believe  that  I'm  going  to  get 
rid  of  it." 

Bellamy  smiled. 

"It's  a  great  adventure,"  he  declared,  "to  come  to  any 
one  like  you.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  can't  imagine  how 
you  had  the  pluck  —  don't  misunderstand  me,  I  mean 
the  moral  pluck  —  to  run  such  a  risk.  Why,  at  the  mo- 
ment you  used  those  notes,"  Bellamy  continued,  "the 
odds  must  have  been  about  twenty  to  one  against  your 
not  being  found  out." 

"  One  does  n't  stop  to  count  the  odds,"  Laverick  said 
grimly.  "I  saw  a  chance  of  salvation  and  I  went  for  it. 
And  now  about  this  letter." 

Bellamy  rose  to  his  feet. 

"On  the  King's  service!"   he  whispered  softly. 

They  walked  once  more  to  the  cashier's  desk.  A  stranger 
greeted  them.  Laverick  produced  his  receipt. 

"I  should  like  the  packet  I  deposited  here  this  even- 
ing," he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  but  I  find  that 
I  require  it  unexpectedly." 

The  clerk  glanced  at  the  receipt  and  up  at  the  clock. 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,"  he  answered,  "that  we  cannot  get 
at  it  before  the  morning." 

"Why  not?"    Laverick  demanded,  frowning. 

"Mr.  Dean  has  just  gone  home,"  the  man  declared, 
"and  he  is  the  only  one  who  knows  the  combination  on 
the  'L'  safe.  You  see,  sir,"  he  continued,  "we  keep  this 
particular  safe  for  documents,  and  we  did  not  expect  that 
anything  would  be  required  from  it  to-night." 

Bellamy  drew  Laverick  away. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "perhaps  to-morrow  morning 
would  be  better.  There's  no  need  to  get  shirty  with  these 


268  HAVOC 

fellows.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  think  that  I  should 
have  dared  to  receive  it  without  making  some  special 
preparations.  I  can  get  some  plain  clothes  men  here  upon 
whom  I  can  rely,  at  nine  o'clock." 

They  strolled  back  into  the  hall. 

"Tell  me,"  Laverick  asked,  "do  you  know  who  the  man 
was  who  forged  my  name  to  the  order  a  few  hours  ago  ? " 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"It  was  Adolf  Kahn,  an  Austrian  spy.  I  have  been 
watching  him  for  days.  If  they'd  given  him  the  paper  I 
had  four  men  at  the  door,  but  it  would  have  been  touch 
and  go.  He  is  a  very  prince  of  conspirators,  that  fellow. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  think  I  might  as  well  go  home." 

Bellamy  was  drawing  on  his  gloves  when  the  hall-porter 
brought  a  note  to  Laverick. 

"A  messenger  has  just  left  this  for  you,  sir,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

Laverick  tore  open  the  envelope.  The  contents  con- 
sisted of  a  few  words  only,  written  on  plain  note-paper  and 
in  a  handwriting  which  was  strange  to  him. 

"Ring  up  1232  Gerrard." 

Laverick  frowned,  turned  over  the  half  sheet  of  paper 
and  looked  once  more  at  the  envelope.  Then  he  passed 
it  on  to  his  companion. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that,  Bellamy  ?  "  he  asked. 

Bellamy  smiled  as  he  perused  and  returned  it. 

"What  could  any  one  make  of  it?"  he  remarked, 
laconically.  "Do  you  know  the  handwriting?" 

"Never  saw  it  before,  to  my  knowledge,"  Laverick 
answered.  "What  should  you  do  about  it?" 

"  I  think,"  Bellamy  suggested,  *'  that  I  should  ring  up 
number  1232  Gerrard." 


MISS    LENEVEU'S    MESSAGE         269 

They  crossed  the  hall  and  Laverick  entered  one  of  the 
telephone  booths. 

"  1232  Gerrard,"  he  said. 

The  connection  was  made  almost  at  once. 

"Who  are  you?"  Laverick  asked. 

"I  am  speaking  for  Miss  Zoe  Leneveu,"  was  the  reply. 
''Are  you  Mr.  Laverick?" 

"  I  am,"  Laverick  answered.  "  Is  Miss  Leneveu  there  ? 
Can  she  speak  to  me  herself?" 

"She  is  not  here,"  the  voice  continued.  "She  was 
fetched  away  in  a  hurry  from  the  theatre  —  we  under- 
stood by  her  brother.  She  left  two  and  sixpence  with  the 
doorkeeper  here  to  ring  you  up  and  explain  that  she  had 
been  summoned  to  her  brother's  rooms,  25,  Jermyn  Street, 
and  would  you  kindly  go  on  there." 

"Who  are  you?"    Laverick  demanded. 

There  was  no  reply.  Laverick  remained  speechless, 
listening  intently.  He  stood  still  with  the  receiver  pressed 
to  his  ear.  Was  it  his  fancy,  or  was  that  really  Zoe's  pro- 
testing voice  which  he  heard  in  the  background  ?  It  was 
a  woman  or  a  child  who  was  speaking  —  he  was  almost 
sure  that  it  was  Zoe. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  fiercely.  "Miss  Leneveu 
is  there  with  you.  Why  does  she  not  speak  for  herself?" 

"  Miss  Leneveu  is  not  here,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  have 
done  what  she  desired.  You  can  please  yourself  whether 
you  go  or  not.  The  address  is  25,  Jermyn  Street.  Ring 
off." 

The  connection  was  gone.  Laverick  laid  down  the 
receiver  and  stepped  out  of  the  booth. 

"I  must  be  off  at  once,"  he  said  to  Bellamy.  "You'll 
be  round  in  the  morning?" 

Bellamy  smiled. 


270  HAVOC 

"After  all,"  he  remarked,  "I  have  changed  my  plans. 
I  shall  not  leave  the  hotel.  I  am  going  to  telephone  round 
to  my  man  to  bring  me  some  clothes.  By  the  bye,  do  you 
mind  telling  me  whether  this  message  which  you  have 
just  received  had  anything  to  do  with  the  little  affair  in 
which  we  are  interested?" 

"Not  directly,"  Laverick  answered,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation.  "  The  message  was  from  a  young  lady.  I  have 
to  go  and  meet  her." 

"  A  young  lady  whom  you  can  trust  ?  "  Bellamy  inquired 
quietly. 

"Implicitly,"  Laverick  assured  him. 

"She  spoke  herself?" 

"No,  she  sent  a  message.  Excuse  me,  Bellamy,  won't 
you,  but  I  must  really  go." 

"By  all  means,"  Bellamy  answered. 

They  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  hotel  together  while 
a  taxicab  was  summoned.  Laverick  stepped  quickly  in. 

"25,  Jermyn  Street,"  he  ordered. 

Bellamy  watched  him  drive  off.    Then  he  sighed. 

"I  think,  my  friend  Laverick,"  he  said  softly,  "that 
you  will  need  some  one  to  look  after  you  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE 

CERTAINLY  it  was  a  strange  little  gathering  that  waited 
in  Morrison's  room  for  the  coming  of  Laverick.  There 
was  Lassen  —  flushed,  ugly,  breathing  heavily,  and 
watching  the  door  with  fixed,  beady  eyes.  There  was 
Adolf  Ivahn,  the  man  who  had  strolled  out  from  the  Milan 
Hotel  as  Laverick  had  entered  it,  leaving  the  forged  order 
behind  him.  There  was  Streuss — stern,  and  desperate 
writh  anxiety.  There  was  Morrison  himself,  in  the  clothes 
of  a  workman,  worn  to  a  shadow,  with  the  furtive  gleam  of 
terrified  guilt  shining  in  his  sunken  eyes,  and  the  slouched 
shoulders  and  broken  mien  of  the  habitual  criminal.  There 
was  Zoe,  around  whom  they  were  all  standing,  with  anger 
burning  in  her  cheeks  and  gleaming  out  of  her  passion- 
filled  eyes.  She,  too,  like  the  others,  watched  the  door. 
So  they  waited. 

Streuss,  not  for  the  first  time,  moved  to  the  window 
and  drawing  aside  the  curtains  looked  down  into  the 
street. 

"Will  he  come  —  this  Englishman?"  he  muttered. 
"Has  he  courage?" 

"More  courage  than  you  who  keep  a  girl  here  against 
her  will !"  Zoe  panted,  looking  at  him  defiantly.  "More 
courage  than  my  poor  brother,  who  stands  there  like  a 
coward !" 

"Shut  up,  Zoe  !"  Morrison  exclaimed  harshly.    "There 


272  HAVOC 

is  nothing  for  you  to  be  furious  about  or  frightened.  No 
one  wants  to  ill-treat  you.  These  gentlemen  all  want  to 
behave  kindly  to  us.  It  is  Laverick  they  want." 

"And  you,"  she  cried,  "are  content  to  stand  by  and 
let  him  walk  into  a  trap  —  you  let  them  even  use  my 
name  to  bring  him  here !  Arthur,  be  a  man  !  Have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  them.  Help  me  to  get  away  from 
this  place.  Call  out.  Do  something  instead  of  standing 
there  and  wasting  the  precious  minutes." 

He  came  towards  her  —  ugly  and  threatening. 

"I'll  do  something  in  a  minute,"  he  declared  savagely, 
—  "  something  you  won't  like,  either.  Keep  your  mouth 
shut,  I  tell  you.  It's  me  or  him,  and,  by  Heavens,  he 
deserves  what  he  '11  get ! " 

Streuss  turned  away  from  the  window  and  looked 
towards  Zoe. 

"  Young  lady,"  he  said  quietly,  "  let  me  beg  you  not  to 
distress  yourself  so.  I  sincerely  trust  that  nothing  un- 
pleasant will  happen.  If  it  does,  I  promise  you  that  we 
will  arrange  for  your  temporary  absence.  You  shall  not 
be  disturbed  in  any  way." 

"And  as  regards  your  brother,  have  a  care,  young 
lady,"  Lassen  growled.  "If  any  one's  in  danger,  it's  he. 
He'll  be  lucky  if  he  saves  his  own  skin." 

The  young  man  glowered  at  her. 

"You  hear  that,  you  little  fool !"  he  muttered.  "Keep 
still,  can't  you?" 

Her  face  was  full  of  defiance.  He  came  nearer  to  her 
and  changed  his  tone. 

"Zoe,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "don't  you  under- 
stand ?  If  they  can't  get  what  they  want  from  Laverick, 
they'll  visit  it  upon  me.  They're  desperate,  I  tell  you. 
Thev  mean  mischief  all  the  time." 


MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE          273 

"Yet  you  let  him  be  brought  here,  your  partner  who 
looked  after  you  when  you  were  ill,  and  who  helped  you 
to  get  away !"  she  cried  indignantly. 

He  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"When  it  comes  to  a  matter  of  life  or  death,  it's  every 
man  for  himself.  Besides,  if  I'd  known  as  much  about 
Laverick  as  I  know  now,  I'm  not  sure  that  I  should  have 
been  so  ready  to  go  —  not  empty-handed,  by  any  manner 
of  means." 

"What  have  you  done  that  you  should  be  so  much  in 
the  power  of  these  people?"  she  demanded,  fixing  her 
dark  eyes  upon  him  searchingly. 

The  terror  whitened  his  face  once  more.  The  per- 
spiration stood  out  in  beads  upon  his  forehead. 

"  Don't  dare  to  ask  me  questions ! "  he  exclaimed 
nervously.  "  I  should  like  to  know  what  Laverick  is  to 
you,  eh,  that  you  take  so  much  interest  in  him?  Listen 
here,  my  fine  young  lady.  If  I've  been  mug  enough  to 
do  the  dirty  work,  he  has  n't  made  any  bones  about  tak- 
ing advantage  of  it.  He's  a  nice  sort  of  sportsman,  I 
can  tell  you." 

The  man  at  the  window  suddenly  dropped  the  curtain 
and  spoke  across  the  room  to  them  all. 

"  He  is  here,"  he  announced. 

"Alone?"  Lassen  asked  thickly. 

"Alone,"  Streuss  echoed. 

A  little  thrill  seemed  to  pass  through  the  room.  Zoe 
made  no  attempt  to  cry  out.  Instead  she  leaned  forward 
towards  the  door,  as  thougli  listening.  Her  attitude 
seemed  harmless  enough.  No  one  took  any  more  notice 
of  her.  They  all  watched  the  entrance  to  the  apartment. 
Zoe  remembered  the  two  flights  of  stairs.  She  was  ab- 
sorbed in  a  breathless  calculation.  Now  —  now  he  should 


274  HAVOC 

be  coming  quite  close.  Her  whole  being  was  concen- 
trated upon  one  effort  of  listening.  At  last  she  raised  her 
head.  The  room  resounded  with  her  cries. 

"  Don't  come  in  !  Don't  come  in  here  !"  she  shrieked. 
"  Mr.  Laverick,  do  you  hear  ?  Go  away !  Don't  come  in 
here  alone !" 

Her  brother  was  the  first  to  reach  her,  his  hand  fell 
upon  her  mouth  brutally.  Her  little  effort  was  naturally 
a  failure  —  defeating,  in  fact,  its  own  object.  Laverick, 
hearing  her  cries,  simply  hastened  his  coming,  threw 
open  the  door  without  waiting  to  knock,  and  stepped 
quickly  across  the  threshold.  He  saw  a  man  dressed  in 
shabby  workman's  clothes,  unshaven,  dishevelled,  hold- 
ing Zoe  in  a  rough  grasp,  and  with  a  single  well-directed 
blow  he  sent  him  reeling  across  the  room.  Then  some- 
thing in  the  man's  cry,  a  momentary  glimpse  of  his  white 
face,  revealed  his  identity. 

"  Morrison  !"  he  cried.    "  Good  God,  it's  Morrison  !" 

Arthur  Morrison  was  crouching  in  a  corner  of  the  room, 
his  evil  face  turned  upon  his  aggressor.  Laverick  took 
quick  stock  of  his  surroundings.  There  was  the  tall,  fair 
young  man  —  Adolf  Kahn  —  whom  he  had  seen  at  the 
Milan  a  few  hours  ago  —  the  man  who  had  unsuccess- 
fully forged  his  name.  There  was  Lassen,  the  man  who, 
under  pretence  of  being  her  manager,  had  been  a  spy 
upon  Louise.  There  was  Streuss,  with  blanched  face 
and  hard  features,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door. 
There  was  Zoe,  and,  behind,  her  brother.  She  held  out 
her  hands  timidly  towards  him,  and  her  eyes  were  soft 
with  pleading. 

"I  did  not  want  you  to  come  here,  Mr.  Laverick^"  she 
cried  softly.  "I  tried  so  hard  to  stop  you.  It  was  not  I 
who  sent  that  message." 


MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE          275 

He  took  her  cold  little  fingers  and  raised  them  to  his 
lips. 

"  I  know  it,  dear,"  he  murmured. 

Then  a  movement  in  the  room  warned  him,  and  he 
was  suddenly  on  guard.  Lassen  was  close  to  his  side, 
some  evil  purpose  plainly  enough  written  in  his  pasty 
face  and  unwholesome  eyes.  Laverick  gave  him  his  left 
shoulder  and  sent  him  staggering  across  the  floor.  He 
was  angry  at  having  been  outwitted  and  his  eyes  gleamed 
ominously. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  seem  to  have 
taken  unusual  pains  to  secure  my  presence  here !  Tell 
me  now,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

It  was  Streuss  who  became  spokesman.  He  addressed 
Laverick  with  the  consideration  of  one  gentleman  ad- 
dressing another.  His  voice  had  many  agreeable  quali- 
ties. His  demeanor  was  entirely  amicable. 

"Mr.  Laverick,"  he  answered,  "let  us  first  apologize 
if  we  used  a  little  subterfuge  to  procure  for  us  the  pleasure 
of  your  visit.  We  are  men  who  are  in  earnest,  and  across 
whose  path  you  have  either  wilfully  or  accidentally  strayed. 
An  understanding  between  us  has  become  a  necessity." 

"  Go  on,"  Laverick  interrupted.  "  Tell  me  exactly  who 
you  are  and  what  you  want." 

"As  to  who  we  are,"  Streuss  answered,  "does  that 
really  matter?  I  repeat  that  we  are  men  who  are  in 
earnest  —  let  that  be  enough.  As  to  what  we  want,  it 
is  a  certain  document  to  which  we  have  every  claim,  and 
which  has  come  into  your  possession  —  I  flatter  you 
somewhat,  Mr.  Laverick,  if  I  say  by  chance." 

Laverick  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Let  that  go,"  he  said.  "I  know  all  about  the  docu- 
ment vou  refer  to,  and  the  notes.  They  were  contained 


276  HAVOC 

in  a  pocket-book  which  it  is  perfectly  true  has  come  into 
my  possession.  Prove  your  claim  to  both  and  you  shall 
have  them." 

Streuss  smiled. 

"You  will  admit  that  our  claim,  since  we  know  of  its 
existence,"  he  asked  suavely,  "is  equal  to  yours?" 

"Certainly,"  Laverick  answered,  "but  then  I  never 
had  any  idea  of  keeping  either  the  document  or  the 
money.  That  your  claim  is  better  than  mine  is  no  guar- 
antee that  there  is  not  some  one  else  whose  title  is  better 
still." 

Streuss  frowned. 

"Be  reasonable,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  begged.  "We  are 
men  of  peace  —  when  peace  is  possible.  The  money 
of  which  you  spoke  you  can  consider  as  treasure  trove, 
if  you  will,  but  it  is  our  intention  to  possess  ourselves  of 
the  document.  It  is  for  that  reason  that  we  are  here  in 
London.  I,  personally,  am  committed  to  the  extent  of 
my  life  and  my  honor  to  its  recovery." 

A  declaration  of  war,  courteously  veiled  but  decisive. 
Laverick  looked  around  him  a  little  defiantly,  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"You  know  very  well  that  I  do  not  carry  it  about  with 
me,"  he  said.  "The  gentleman  on  my  left,"  he  added, 
pointing  to  Kahn,  "can  tell  you  where  it  is  kept." 

"  Quite  so,"  Streuss  admitted.  "  We  are  not  doing  you 
the  injustice  to  suppose  that  you  would  be  so  foolhardy 
as  to  trust  yourself  anywhere  with  that  document  upon 
your  person.  It  is  in  the  safe  at  the  Milan  Hotel.  I  may 
add  that  probably,  if  it  had  not  occurred  to  you  to  change 
your  quarters,  it  would  have  been  in  our  possession  be- 
fore now.  We  are  hoping  to  persuade  you  to  return  to 
the  hotel  with  one  of  our  friends  here,  and  procure  it." 


MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE          277 

"As  it  happens,"  Laverick  remarked,  "that  is  impossi- 
ble. The  man  who  set  the  combination  for  that  particular 
safe  has  gone  off  duty,  and  will  not  be  back  again  at  the 
hotel  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"But  he  is  to  be  found,"  Streuss  answered  easily. 
"His  present  whereabouts  and  his  address  are  known  to 
us.  He  lives  with  his  family  at  Harvard  Court,  Hamp- 
stead.  We  shall  assist  you  in  making  it  worth  his  while 
to  return  to  the  hotel  or  to  give  you  the  combination  word 
for  the  safe." 

"  You  are  rather  great  on  detail !"  Laverick  exclaimed. 

"It  is  our  business.  The  question  for  you  to  decide, 
and  to  decide  immediately,  is  whether  you  are  ready  to 
end  this,  in  some  respects,  constrained  situation,  and 
give  your  word  to  place  that  document  in  our  hands." 

"You  are  ready  to  accept  my  word,  then?"  Laverick 
asked. 

"We  have  a  certain  hold  upon  you,"  Streuss  continued 
slowly.  "Your  partner  Mr.  Morrison's  position  in  con- 
nection with  the  murder  in  Crooked  Friars'  Alley  is,  as 
you  may  have  surmised,  a  somewhat  unfortunate  one. 
Your  own  I  will  not  allude  to.  I  will  simply  suggest  that 
for  both  your  sakes  publicity  —  any  measure  of  pub- 
licity, in  fact,  as  regards  this  little  affair  —  would  not  be 
desirable." 

Laverick  hesitated.  He  understood  all  that  was  im- 
plied. Morrison's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  —  the  eyes 
of  a  craven  coward.  He  felt  the  intensity  of  the  moment. 
Then  Zoe  turned  suddenly  towards  him. 

"You  are  not  to  give  it  up  !"  she  cried,  with  trembling 
lips.  "They  cannot  hurt  you,  and  it  is  not  true  —about 
Arthur." 

Kahn,  who  was  nearest,  clapped  his  hand  over  her 


278  HAVOC 

mouth  and  Laverick  knocked  him  down.  Instantly  the 
pacific  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  changed.  Lassen 
and  Morrison  closed  swiftly  upon  Laverick  from  different 
sides.  Streuss  covered  him  with  the  shining  barrel  of  a 
revolver. 

"  Mr.  Laverick,"  he  said,  "  we  are  not  here  to  be  trifled 
with.  Keep  your  sister  quiet,  Morrison,  or,  by  God, 
you'll  swing!" 

Laverick  looked  at  the  revolver — fascinated,  for  an 
instant,  by  its  unexpected  appearance.  The  face  of  the 
man  who  held  it  had  changed.  There  was  lightning  play- 
ing about  the  room. 

"  It 's  the  dock  for  you  both ! "  Streuss  exclaimed 
fiercely, — "for  you,  Laverick,  and  you,  Morrison,  too, 
if  you  play  with  us  any  longer !  One  of  you 's  a  mur- 
derer and  the  other  receives  the  booty.  Who  are  you 
to  have  scruples  —  criminals,  both  of  you  ?  Your  place  is 
in  the  dock,  and  you  shall  be  there  within  twenty-four 
hours  if  there  are  any  more  evasions.  Now,  Laverick, 
will  you  fetch  that  document?  It  is  your  last  chance." 

Upon  the  breathless  silence  that  followed  a  quiet  voice 
intervened  —  a  voice  calm  and  emotionless,  tinged  with 
a  measure  of  polite  inquiry.  Yet  its  level  utterance  fell 
like  a  bomb  among  the  little  company.  The  curtain 
separating  this  from  the  inner  room  had  been  drawn  a 
few  feet  back,  and  Bellamy  was  standing  there,  in  black 
overcoat  and  white  muffler,  his  silk  hat  on  the  back  of 
his  head,  his  left  hand,  carefully  gloved,  resting  still  upon 
the  curtain  which  he  had  drawn  aside. 

"I  hope  I  am  not  disturbing  you  at  all?"  he  mur- 
mured softly. 

For  a  moment  the  development  of  the  situation  re- 
mained uncertain.  The  gleaming  barrel  of  Streuss's 


MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE          279 

revolver  changed  its  destination.  Bellamy  glanced  at  it 
with  the  pleased  curiosity  of  a  child. 

"I  really  ought  not  to  have  intruded,"  he  continued 
amiably.  "I  happened  to  hear  the  address  my  friend 
Laverick  gave  to  the  taxicab  driver,  and  I  was  particu- 
larly anxious  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  him  before  I  left 
for  the  Continent." 

Streuss  was  surely  something  of  a  charlatan !  His 
revolver  had  disappeared.  The  smile  upon  his  lips  was 
both  gracious  and  unembarrassed. 

"  One  is  always  only  too  pleased  to  welcome  Mr.  Bellamy 
anywhere — anyhow,"  he  declared.  "If  apologies  are 
needed  at  all,"  he  continued,  "  it  is  to  our  friend  and  host 
—  Mr.  Morrison  here.  Permit  me  —  Mr.  Arthur  Morri- 
son —  the  Honorable  David  Bellamy !  These  are  Mr. 
Morrison's  rooms." 

Morrison  could  do  no  more  than  stare.  Bellamy,  on 
the  contrary,  with  a  little  bow  came  further  into  the  apart- 
ment, removing  his  hat  from  his  head.  Lassen  glided 
round  behind  him,  remaining  between  Bellamy  and  the 
heavy  curtains.  Adolf  Kahn  moved  as  though  uncon- 
sciously in  front  of  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  they 
were. 

Bellamy  smiled  courteously. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  I  must  not  stay  for  more 
than  a  moment.  I  have  a  car  full  of  friends  below  —  we 
are  on  our  way,  in  fact,  to  the  Covent  Garden  Ball  —  and 
one  or  two  of  them,  I  fear,"  he  added  indulgently,  "have 
already  reached  that  stage  of  exhilaration  which  such  an 
entertainment  in  England  seems  to  demand.  They  will 
certainly  come  and  rout  me  out  if  I  am  here  much  longer. 
There!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  hear  that?" 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  motor  horn  from  the  street 


28o  HAVOC 

below.  Streuss,  with  an  oath  trembling  upon  his  lips, 
lifted  the  blind.  There  were  two  motor-cars  waiting 
there  —  large  cars  with  Limousine  bodies,  and  apparently 
full  of  men.  After  all,  it  was  to  be  expected.  Bellamy 
was  no  fool ! 

"Since  we  are  to  lose  you,  then  Mr.  Laverick,"  Streuss 
remarked  with  a  gesture  of  farewell,  "let  us  say  good 
night.  The  little  matter  of  business  which  we  were  dis- 
cussing can  be  concluded  with  your  partner." 

Laverick  turned  toward  Zoe.  Their  eyes  met  and  he 
read  their  message  of  terror. 

"You  are  coming  back  to  your  own  rooms,  Miss 
Leneveu,"  he  said.  "You  must  let  me  offer  you  my 
escort." 

She  half  rose,  but  in  obedience  to  a  gesture  from  Streuss 
Morrison  moved  near  to  them. 

"  If  you  leave  me  here,  Laverick,"  he  muttered  beneath 
his  breath,  — "  if  you  leave  me  to  these  hounds,  do  you 
know  what  they  will  do  ?  They  will  hand  me  over  to  the 
police  —  they  have  sworn  it ! " 

"  Why  did  you  come,  back  ?  "   Laverick  asked  quickly. 

"They  stopped  me*as  I  was  boarding  the  steamer," 
Morrison  declared.  "I  tell  you  they  have  eyes  every- 
where. You  cannot  move  without  their  knowledge.  I 
had  to  come.  Now  that  I  am  here  they  have  told  me 
plainly  the  price  of  my  freedom.  It  is  that  document. 
Laverick,  it  is  my  life !  You  must  give  in  —  you  must, 
indeed  !  Remember  you're  in  it,  too." 

"Am  I?"  Laverick  asked  quietly. 

"You  fool,  of  course  you  are!"  Morrison  whispered 
hoarsely.  "  Did  n't  you  come  into  the  entry  and  take  the 
pocket-book  ?  Heaven  knows  what  possessed  you  to  do  it ! 
Heaven  knows  how  you  found  the  pluck  to  use  the  money  ! 


MORRISON    IS    DESPERATE          281 

But  you  did  it,  and  you  are  a  criminal  —  a  criminal  as  I 
am.     Don't  be  a  fool,  Laverick.     Make  terms  with  these 
people.     They   want   the  document  —  the  document  — 
nothing  but  the  document !     They  will  let  us  keep  the 
money." 

"And  you?"   Laverick  asked,  turning  suddenly  to  Zoe. 
"What  do  you  say  about  all  this?" 

She  looked  at  him  fearlessly. 

"I  trust  you,"  she  said.     "I  trust  you  to  do  what  is 
right." 


CHAPTER  XXXm 

LAVEBICK'S  ARREST 

"AT  last,  David!" 

Louise  welcomed  her  visitor  eagerly  with  outstretched 
hands,  which  Bellamy  raised  for  a  moment  to  his  lips. 
Then  she  turned  toward  the  third  person,  who  had  also 
risen  at  the  opening  of  the  door  —  a  short,  somewhat 
thick-set  man,  with  swarthy  complexion,  close-cropped 
black  hair,  and  upturned  black  moustache. 

"You  remember  Prince  Rosmaran?"  she  said  to  Bel- 
lamy. "  He  left  Servia  only  the  day  before  yesterday.  He 
has  come  to  England  on  a  special  mission  to  the  King." 

Bellamy  shook  hands. 

"I  think,"  he  remarked,  "I  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
you  once  before,  Prince,  at  the  opening  of  the  Servian 
Parliament  two  years  ago.  It  was  just  then,  I  believe, 
that  you  were  elected  to  lead  the  patriotic  party." 

The  Prince  bowed  sadly. 

"My  leadership,  I  fear,"  he  declared,  "has  brought 
little  good  to  my  unhappy  country." 

"It  is  a  terrible  crisis  through  which  your  nation  is 
passing,"  Bel'amy  reminded  him  sympathetically.  "At 
the  same  time,  we  must  not  despair.  Austria  holds  out 
her  clenched  hands,  but  as  yet  she  has  not  dared  to 
strike." 

The  face  of  the  Prince  was  dark  with  passion. 

"As  yet,  no!"  he  answered.  "But  how  long — how 
long,  I  wonder  —  before  the  blow  falls  ?  We  in  Servia 


LAVERICK'S    ARREST  283 

have  been  blamed  for  arming  ourselves,  but  I  tell  you 
that  to-day  the  Austrian  troops  are  being  secretly  concen- 
trated on  the  frontier.  Their  arsenals  are  working  night 
and  day.  Her  soldiers  are  maneuvering  almost  within 
sight  of  Belgrade.  We  have  hoped  against  hope,  yet  in 
our  hearts  we  know  that  our  fate  was  sealed  when  the 
Czar  of  Russia  left  Vienna  last  week." 

"Nothing  is  certain,"  Bellamy  declared  restlessly. 
"England  has  been  ill-governed  for  a  great  many  years, 
but  we  are  not  yet  a  negligible  Power." 

Louise  leaned  a  little  towards  him. 

"David,"  she  whispered,  "the  compact!" 

He  answered  her  unspoken  question. 

"  It  is  arranged,"  he  said,  —  "  finished.  To-morrow 
morning  at  nine  o'clock  I  receive  it." 

"You  are  sure?"  she  begged.  "Why  need  there  be  any 
delay?" 

"It  is  locked  up  in  a  powerful  safe,"  he  explained,  "and 
the  clerk  who  has  the  combination  will  not  be  on  duty 
again  till  nine.  Laverick  is  there  simply  waiting  for  the 
hour.  You  were  right,  Louise,  as  usual.  I  should  have 
trusted  him  from  the  first." 

The  Prince  had  been  listening  to  their  conversation 
with  undisguised  interest. 

"There  is  a  rumor,"  he  said,  "that  some  secret  informa- 
tion concerning  the  compact  of  Vienna  has  found  its 
way  to  this  country." 

Bellamy  smiled. 

"Hence,  I  presume,  your  mission,  Prince." 

"We  three  have  no  secrets  from  one  another,"  the 
Prince  declared.  "  Our  interests  in  this  matter  are  abso- 
lutely identical.  What  you  suggest,  Mr.  Bellamy,  is  the 
truth.  There  is  a  rumor  that  the  Chancellor,  in  the  first 


284  HAVOC 

few  moments  of  his  illness,  gave  valuable  information  to 
some  one  who  is  likely  to  have  communicated  it  to  the 
Government  here.  To  be  forewarned  is  to  be  forearmed. 
That,  I  know,  is  one  of  your  own  mottoes.  So  I  am  here 
to  know  if  there  is  anything  to  be  learned." 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Your  arrival  is  not  inopportune,  Prince.  When  did 
you  come?" 

"I  reached  Charing  Cross  at  midnight,"  the  Prince 
answered.  "Our  train  was  an  hour  late.  I  am  present- 
ing my  credentials  early  this  morning,  and  I  am  hoping 
for  an  interview  during  the  afternoon." 

Bellamy  considered  for  a  moment. 

"It  is  true!"  he  said.  "Between  us  three  there  is 
indeed  no  need  for  secrecy.  The  information  you  speak 
of  will  be  in  our  hands  within  a  few  hours.  I  have  no 
doubt  whatever  but  that  your  Minister  will  share  in  it." 

"You  know  of  what  it  consists?"  the  Prince  inquired 
curiously. 

"I  think  so,"  Bellamy  answered,  glancing  at  the  clock. 
"For  my  own  part,  although  the  information  itself  is  in- 
valuable, I  see  another  and  a  profounder  source  of  inter- 
est in  that  document.  If,  indeed,  it  is  what  we  believe  it 
to  be,  it  amounts  to  a  casus  belli." 

"You  mean  that  you  would  provoke  war?"  Prince 
Rosmaran  asked. 

Bellamy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I,"  said  he,  —  "I  am  not  even  a  politician.  But,  you 
know,  the  lookers-on  see  a  good  deal  of  the  game,  and  in 
my  opinion  there  is  only  one  course  open  for  this  country, 
—  to  work  upon  Russia  so  that  she  withdraws  from  any 
compact  she  may  have  entered  into  with  Austria  and 
Germany,  to  accept  Germany's  co-operation  with  Austria 


LAVERICK'S    ARREST  285 

in  the  despoilment  of  your  country  as  a  casus  belli,  and  to 
declare  war  at  once  while  our  fleet  is  invincible  and  our 
Colonies  free  from  danger." 

The  Prince  nodded. 

"  It  is  good,"  he  admitted,  "  to  hear  man's  talk  once 
more.  Wherever  one  moves,  people  bow  the  head  before 
the  might  of  Germany  and  Austria.  Let  them  alone  but 
a  little  longer,  and  they  will  indeed  rule  Europe." 

Three  o'clock  struck.     The  Prince  rose. 

"I  go,"  he  announced. 

"And  I,"  Bellamy  declared.  "Come  to  my  rooms  at 
ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  Prince,  and  you  shall 
hear  the  news." 

Bellamy  lingered  behind.  For  a  monient  he  held  Louise 
in  his  arms  and  gazed  sorrowfully  into  her  weary  face. 

"Is  it  worth  while,  I  wonder?"   he  asked  bitterly. 

"Worth  while,"  she  answered,  opening  her  eyes  and 
looking  at  him,  "to  feel  the  mother  love?  Who  can  help 
it  who  would  not  be  ignoble?" 

"But  yours,  dear,"  he  murmured,  "is  all  grief.  Even 
now  I  am  afraid." 

"We  can  do  no  more  than  toil  to  the  end,"  she  said. 
"David,  you  are  sure  this  time?" 

"I  am  sure,"  he  replied.  "I  am  going  back  now  to  the 
hotel  where  Laverick  is  staying.  We  are  going  to  sit 
together  and  smoke  until  the  morning.  Nothing  short 
of  an  army  could  storm  the  hotel.  I  was  with  them  all 
only  an  hour  ago,  —  Streuss,  that  blackguard  Lassen,  and 
Adolf  Kahn,  the  police  spy.  They  are  beaten  men  and 
they  know  it.  They  had  Laverick,  had  him  by  a  trick, 
but  I  made  a  dramatic  entrance  and  the  game  was 
up." 


286  HAVOC 

"Telephone  me  directly  you  have  taken  it  safely  to 
Downing  Street,"  she  begged. 
"I  will,"  he  promised. 

Bellamy  walked  from  Dover  Street  to  the  Strand.  The 
streets  were  almost  brilliant  with  the  cold,  hard  moon- 
light. The  air  seemed  curiously  keen.  Once  or  twice 
the  fall  of  his  feet  upon  the  pavement  was  so  clear  and 
distinct  that  he  fancied  he  was  being  followed  and  glanced 
sharply  around.  He  reached  the  Milan  Hotel,  however, 
without  adventure,  and  looked  towards  the  little  open 
space  in  the  hall  where  he  had  expected  to  find  Laverick. 
There  was  no  one  there !  He  stood  still  for  a  moment, 
troubled  with  a  sudden  sense  of  apprehension.  The 
place  was  deserted  except  for  a  couple  of  sleepy-looking 
clerks  and  a  small  army  of  cleaners  busy  with  their 
machines  down  in  the  restaurant,  moving  about  like 
mysterious  figures  in  the  dim  light. 

Bellamy  turned  back  to  the  hall-porter  who  had  ad- 
mitted him. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  what  has  become  of  the  gen- 
tleman whom  I  was  with  about  an  hour  ago?"  he  asked, 
"  a  tall,  fair  gentleman  —  Mr.  Laverick  his  name  was  ?" 

The  hall-porter  recognized  Bellamy  and  touched  his 
hat. 

"  Why,  yes,  sir ! "  he  answered  with  a  somewhat  mys- 
terious air.  "Mr.  Laverick  was  sitting  over  there  in  an 
easy-chair  until  about  half-an-hour  ago.  Then  two  gentle- 
men arrived  in  a  taxicab  and  inquired  for  him.  They 
talked  for  a  little  time,  and  finally  Mr.  Laverick  went  away 
with  them." 

Bellamy  was  puzzled. 

"Went   away  with   them?"    he   repeated.      "I   don'f 


LAVERICK'S    ARREST  287 

understand  that,  Reynolds.  He  was  to  have  waited  here 
till  I  returned." 

The  man  hesitated. 

"It  did  n't  strike  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  Mr.  Laverick 
was  very  wishful  to  go.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had  n't 
much  choice  about  the  matter." 

Bellamy  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"Tell  me  what  is  in  your  mind?"   he  asked. 

"Mr.  Bellamy,  sir,"  the  hall-porter  replied,  "I  knew 
one  of  those  gentlemen  by  sight.  He  was  a  detective  from 
Scotland  Yard,  and  the  one  who  was  with  him  was  a 
policeman  in  plain  clothes." 

"Good  God!"  Bellamy  exclaimed.  "You  think, 
then,  —  " 

"  I  am  afraid  there  was  no  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  the  man 
answered.  "Mr.  Laverick  was  arrested  on  some  charge 
or  another." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

MORRISON'S  DISCLOSURE 

INTO  New  Oxford  Street,  one  of  the  ceaseless  streams  of 
polyglot  humanity,  came  Zoe  from  her  cheerless  day 
bound  for  the  theatre.  She  was  a  little  whiter,  a  little 
more  tired  than  usual.  All  day  long  she  had  heard  nothing 
of  Laverick.  All  day  long  she  had  sat  in  her  tiny  room 
with  the  memory  of  that  horrible  night  before  her.  She 
had  tried  in  vain  to  sleep,  —  she  had  made  no  effort  what- 
ever to  eat.  She  knew  now  why  Arthur  Morrison  had 
fled  away.  She  knew  the  cause  of  that  paroxysm  of  fear 
in  which  he  had  sought  her  out.  The  horror  of  the  whole 
thing  had  crept  into  her  blood  like  poison.  Life  was  once 
more  a  dreary,  profitless  struggle.  All  the  wonderful 
dreams,  which  had  made  existence  seem  almost  like  a 
fairy-tale  for  this  last  week,  had  faded  away.  She  was 
once  more  a  mournful  little  waif  among  the  pitiless  crowds. 
She  turned  to  the  left  and  past  the  Holborn  Tube.  Boys 
were  shouting  everywhere  the  contents  of  the  evening 
papers.  Nearly  every  one  seemed  to  be  carrying  one  of  the 
pink  sheets.  She  herself  passed  on  with  unseeing  eyes. 
News  was  nothing  to  her.  Governments  might  rise  and 
fall,  war  might  come  and  go,  —  she  had  still  life  to  support, 
a  friendless  little  life,  too,  on  two  pounds  fifteen  shillings 
a  week.  The  news  they  shouted  fell  upon  deaf  ears,  but 
one  boy  unfurled  almost  before  her  eyes  the  headlines  of 
his  sheet. 

SENSATIONAL   ARREST    OF    A   WELL-KNOWN 
STOCKBROKER.     CHARGE   OF   MURDER. 


MORRISON'S    DISCLOSURE  289 

She  came  to  a  sudden  stop  and  pulled  out  her  purse.  Her 
fingers  trembled  so  that  the  penny  fell  on  to  the  pave- 
ment. The  boy  picked  it  up  willingly  enough,  however, 
and  she  passed  on  with  the  paper  in  her  hand.  There  it 
was  on  the  front  page  —  staring  her  in  the  face : 

Early  yesterday  morning  Mr.  Stephen  Laverick, 
of  the  firm  of  Laverick  &  Morrison,  Stockbrokers, 
Old  Broad  Street,  was  arrested  at  the  Milan  Hotel 
on  the  charge  of  being  concerned  in  the  murder  of  a 
person  unknown,  in  Crooked  Friars 'Alley,  on  Mon- 
day last.  The  accused,  who  made  no  reply  to  the 
charge,  was  removed  to  Bow  Street  Pol  ice-Station. 
Particulars  of  his  examination  before  the  magis- 
trates will  be  found  on  page  4. 

There  was  a  dull  singing  in  her  ears.  An  electric  tram, 
coming  up  from  the  underground  passage,  seemed  to 
bring  with  it  some  sort  of  thunder  from  an  unknown  world. 
She  staggered  on,  unseeing,  gasping  for  breath.  If  she 
could  find  somewhere  to  sit  down !  If  she  could  only 
rest  for  a  moment !  Then  a  sudden  wave  of  strength  came 
to  her,  the  blood  flowed  once  more  in  her  veins  —  blood 
that  was  hot  with  anger,  that  stained  her  cheeks  with  a 
spot  of  red.  It  was  the  man  she  loved,  this,  being  made 
to  suffer  falsely.  It  was  the  fulfilment  of  their  threat  - 
a  deliberate  plot  against  him.  The  murderer  of  Crooked 
Friars'  Alley  —  she  knew  who  that  was !  —  she  knew  ! 
Perhaps  she  might  help  ! 

She  had  not  the  slightest  recollection  of  the  remainder 
of  that  walk,  but  she  found  herself  presently  sitting  in  ;i 
quiet  corner  of  the  theatre  with  the  paper  spread  out 
before  her.  She  read  that  Stephen  Laverick  had  been 
brought  before  Mr.  Rawson,  the  magistrate  of  Bow  Street 


29o  HAVOC 

Police  Court,  on  a  warrant  charging  him  with  having 
been  concerned  with  the  murder  of  a  person  unknown, 
and  that  he  had  pleaded  "  Not  Guilty  !  "  Her  eyes  glittered 
as  she  read  that  the  first  witness  called  was  Mr.  Arthur 
Morrison,  late  partner  of  the  accused.  She  read  his 
deposition  —  that  he  had  left  Laverick  at  their  offices  at 
eleven  o'clock  on  the  night  in  question,  that  they  were  at 
that  time  absolutely  without  means,  and  had  no  prospect 
of  meeting  their  engagements  on  the  morrow.  She  read 
the  evidence  of  Mr.  Fenwick,  bank  manager,  to  the  effect 
that  Mr.  Laverick  had,  on  the  following  morning,  deposited 
with  him  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  pounds  in  Bank  of 
England  notes,  by  means  of  which  the  engagements  of 
the  firm  were  duly  met,  that  those  notes  had  since  been 
redeemed,  and  that  he  had  no  idea  of  their  present  where- 
abouts. She  read,  too,  the  evidence  of  Adolf  Kahn,  an 
Austrian  visiting  this  country  upon  private  business,  who 
deposed  that  he  was  in  the  vicinity  just  before  midnight, 
that  he  saw  a  person,  whom  he  identified  as  the  accused, 
walking  down  the  street  and,  after  disappearing  for  a  few 
minutes  down  the  entry,  return  and  re-enter  the  offices 
from  which  he  had  issued.  He  explained  his  presence  there 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  waiting  for  a  clerk  employed  by 
the  Goldfields'  Corporation,  Limited,  whose  offices  were 
close  by.  Further  formal  evidence  was  given,  and  a  remand 
asked  for.  The  accused's  solicitor  was  on  the  point  of 
addressing  the  court  when  Mr.  Rawson  was  unfortunately 
taken  ill.  After  waiting  for  some  time,  the  case  was  ad- 
journed until  the  next  day,  and  the  accused  man  was 
removed  in  custody. 

Zoe  laid  down  the  paper  and  rose  to  her  feet.  She 
made  her  way  to  where  the  stage-manager  was  superin- 
tending the  erection  of  some  new  scenery. 


MORRISON'S    DISCLOSURE          291 

"Mr.  Heeprnan,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  cannot  stay  to 
rehearsal !  I  have  to  go  out." 

He  turned  heavily  round  and  looked  at  her. 

"Rehearsal  postponed,"  he  declared  solemnly.  "Shall 
you  be  back  for  the  evening  performance,  or  shall  we  close 
the  theatre?" 

His  clumsy  irony  missed  its  mark.  Her  thoughts  were 
too  intensely  focussed  upon  one  thing. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  replied,  turning  away.  "  I  will  come 
back  as  soon  as  I  can." 

He  called  out  after  her  and  she  paused. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "you  were  absent  from  the  per- 
formance the  other  evening,  and  now  you  are  skipping 
rehearsal  without  even  waiting  for  permission.  It  can't 
be  done,  young  lady.  You  must  do  your  playing  around 
some  other  time.  If  you're  not  here  when  you're  called, 
you  need  n't  trouble  to  turn  up  again.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

Her  lips  quivered  and  the  sense  of  impending  disaster 
which  seemed  to  be  brooding  over  her  life  became  almost 
overwhelming. 

"I'll  come  back  as  soon  as  I  can,"  she  promised,  with 
a  little  break  in  her  voice,  —  "  as  soon  as  ever  I  can,  Mr. 
Heepman." 

She  hurried  out  of  the  theatre  and  took  her  place  once 
more  among  the  hurrying  throng  of  pedestrians.  Several 
people  turned  round  to  look  at  her.  Her  white  face,  tight- 
drawn  mouth,  and  eyes  almost  unnaturally  large,  seemed 
to  have  become  the  abiding-place  for  tragedy.  She  her- 
self saw  no  one.  She  would  have  taken  a  cab,  but  a  glimpse 
at  the  contents  of  her  purse  dissuaded  her.  She  walked 
steadily  on  to  Jermyn  Street,  walked  up  the  stairs  to  the 
third  floor,  and  knocked  at  her  brother's  door.  No  one 


292  HAVOC 

answered  her  at  first.  She  turned  the  handle  and  entered 
to  find  the  room  empty.  There  were  sounds,  however,  in 
the  further  apartment,  and  she  called  out  to  him. 

"Arthur,"  she  cried,  "are  you  there?" 

"Who  is  it?"  he  demanded. 

"It  is  I  — Zoe!"  she  exclaimed. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Arthur.  I  must  speak  to  you. 
Please  come  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

He  growled  something  and  in  a  few  moments  he  ap- 
peared. He  was  wearing  the  morning  clothes  in  which 
he  had  attended  court  earlier  in  the  day,  but  the  change  in 
him  was  perhaps  all  the  more  marked  by  reason  of  this 
resumption  of  his  old  attire.  His  cheeks  were  hollow,  his 
eyes  scarcely  for  an  instant  seemed  to  lose  that  feverish 
gleam  of  terror  with  which  he  had  returned  from  Liver- 
pool. He  knew  very  well  what  she  had  come  about,  and 
he  began  nervously  to  try  and  bully  her. 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  come  to  these  rooms,  Zoe,"  he 
said.  "I've  told  you  before  they're  bachelors'  apart- 
ments, and  they  don't  like  women  about  the  place.  What 
is  it?  What  do  you  want?" 

"I  was  brought  here  last  time  without  any  particular 
desire  on  my  part,"  she  answered,  looking  him  in  the  face. 
"I've  come  now  to  ask  you  what  accursed  plot  this  is 
against  Stephen  Laverick?  What  were  you  doing  in  the 
court  this  morning,  lying?  What  is  the  meaning  of  it, 
Arthur?" 

"If  you've  come  to  talk  rubbish  like  that,"  he  declared 
roughly,  "you'd  better  be  off." 

"No,  it  is  not  rubbish!"  she  went  on  fearlessly.  "I 
think  I  can  understand  what  it  is  that  has  happened. 
They  have  terrified  you  and  bribed  you  until  you  are 


MORRISON'S    DISCLOSURE  293 

willing  to  do  any  despicable  thing — even  this.  Your 
father  was  good  to  my  mother,  Arthur,  and  I  have  tried  to 
feel  towards  you  as  though  you  were  indeed  a  relation. 
But  nothing  of  that  counts.  I  want  you  to  realize  that  I 
know  the  truth,  and  that  I  will  not  see  an  innocent  man 
convicted  while  the  guilty  go  free." 

He  moved  a  step  towards  her.  They  were  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  small  round  table  which  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  apartment. 

"What  do  you  mean?"   he  demanded  hoarsely. 

"Is  n't  it  plain  enough?"  she  exclaimed.  "You  came 
to  my  rooms  a  week  or  so  ago,  a  terrified,  broken-down 
man.  If  ever  there  was  guilt  in  a  man's  face,  it  was  in 
yours.  You  sent  for  Laverick.  He  pitied  you  and  helped 
you  away.  At  Liverpool  they  would  not  let  you  embark 
—  these  men.  They  have  brought  you  back  here.  You 
are  their  tool.  But  you  know  very  well,  Arthur,  that  it 
was  not  Stephen  Laverick  who  killed  the  man  in  Crooked 
Friars'  Alley  !  You  know  very  well  that  it  was  not  Stephen 
Laverick !" 

"  Why  the  devil  should  I  know  anything  about  it  ? "  he 
asked  fiercely. 

A  note  of  passion  suddenly  crept  into  her  voice.  Her 
little  white  hand,  with  its  accusing  forefinger,  shot  out 
towards  him. 

"Because  it  was  you,  Arthur  Morrison,  who  com- 
mitted that  crime,"  she  cried,  "and  sooner  than  another 
man  should  suffer  for  it,  I  shall  go  to  court  myself  and 
tell  the  truth." 

He  was,  for  the  moment,  absolutely  speechless,  pale 
as  death,  with  nervously  twitching  lips  and  fingers.  But 
there  was  murder  in  his  eyes. 

"What  do  vou  know  about  this?"   he  muttered. 


294  HAVOC 

"Never  mind,"  she  answered.  "I  know  and  I  guess 
quite  enough  to  convince  me  —  and  I  think  anybody 
else  —  that  you  are  the  guilty  man.  I  would  have  helped 
you  and  shielded  you,  whatever  it  cost  me,  but  I  will  not 
do  so  at  Stephen  Laverick's  expense." 

"What  is  Laverick  to  you?"  he  growled. 

"He  is  nothing  to  me,"  she  replied,  "but  the  best  of 
friends.  Even  were  he  less  than  that,  do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  let  an  innocent  man  suffer  ?  " 

He  moistened  his  dry  lips  rapidly. 

"  You  are  talking  nonsense,  Zoe,"  he  said,  —  "  non- 
sense! Even  if  there  has  been  some  little  mistake,  what 
could  I  do  now  ?  I  have  given  my  evidence.  So  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  the  case  is  finished.  I  shall  not  be  called 
again  until  the  trial." 

"  Then  you  had  better  go  to  the  magistrates  to-morrow 
morning  and  take  back  your  evidence,"  she  declared 
boldly,  "  for  if  you  do  not,  I  shall  be  there  and  I  shall  tell 
the  truth." 

"Zoe,"  he  gasped,  "don't  try  me  too  high.  This  thing 
has  upset  me.  I'm  ill.  Can't  you  see  it,  Zoe?  Look  at 
me.  I  have  n't  slept  for  weeks.  Night  and  day  I  've  had 
the  fear  —  the  fear  always  with  me.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is  —  you  can't  imagine.  It 's  like  a  terrible  ghost, 
keeping  pace  with  you  wherever  you  go,  laying  his  icy 
finger  upon  you  whenever  you  would  rest,  mocking  at 
you  when  you  try  to  drown  thought  even  for  a  moment. 
Don't  you  try  me  too  far,  Zoe.  I  'm  not  responsible.  Laver- 
ick is  n't  the  man  you  think  him  to  be.  He  is  n't  the  man 
I  believed.  He  did  have  that  money  —  he  did,  indeed." 

"That,"  she  said,  "is  to  be  explained.  But  he  is  not  a 
murderer." 

"Listen    to    me,    Zoe,"    Morrison    continued,    leaning 


MORRISON'S    DISCLOSURE          295 

across  the  table.  "  Come  and  stay  with  me  for  a  time  and 
we  will  go  away  for  a  week  —  somewhere  to  the  seaside. 
We  will  talk  about  this  and  think  it  over.  I  want  to  get 
away  from  London.  We  will  go  to  Brighton,  if  you  like. 
I  must  do  something  for  you,  Zoe.  I'm  afraid  I've  neg- 
lected you  a  good  deal.  Perhaps  I  could  get  you  a  better 
part  at  one  of  the  theatres.  I  must  make  you  an  allow- 
ance. You  ought  to  be  wearing  better  clothes." 

She  drew  a  little  away. 

"I  want  nothing  from  you,  Arthur,"  she  said,  "except 
this  —  that  you  speak  the  truth." 

He  wiped  his  forehead  and  struck  the  table  before  her. 

"But,  good  God,  Zoe!"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  know 
what  it  is  that  you  are  asking  me?  Do  you  want  me  to 
go  into  court  and  say  — '  That  is  n't  the  man.  It  is  I 
who  am  the  murderer '  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  feel  their 
hands  upon  my  shoulder,  to  be  put  there  in  the  dock  and 
have  all  the  people  staring  at  me  curiously  because  they 
know  that  before  very  long  I  am  to  stand  upon  the  scaf- 
fold and  have  that  rope  around  my  neck  and  — 

He  broke  off  with  a  low  cry,  wringing  his  hands  like  a 
child  in  a  fit  of  impotent  terror.  But  the  girl  in  front  of 
him  never  flinched. 

"Arthur,"  she  said,  "crime  is  a  terrible  thing,  but 
nothing  in  the  world  can  alter  its  punishment.  If  it  is 
frightful  for  you  to  think  of  this,  what  must  it  be  for  him  ? 
And  you  are  guilty  and  he  is  not." 

"I  was  mad!"  Morrison  went  on,  now  almost  beside 
himself.  "  Zoe,  I  was  mad  !  I  called  there  to  have  a  drink. 
We  were  broke,  —  the  firm  was  broke.  I  'd  a  hundred  or 
so  in  my  pocket  and  I  was  going  to  bolt  the  next  day. 
And  there,  within  a  few  yards  of  me,  was  that  man,  with 
such  a  roll  of  notes  as  I  had  never  seen  in  my  life.  Five 


296  HAVOC 

hundred  pounds,  every  one  of  them,  and  a  wad  as  thick 
as  my  fist.  Zoe,  they  fascinated  me.  I  had  two  drinks 
quickly  and  I  followed  him  out.  Somehow  or  other,  I 
found  that  I'd  caught  up  a  knife  that  was  on  the  counter. 
I  never  meant  to  hurt  him  seriously,  but  I  wanted  some 
of  those  notes !  I  was  leaving  the  next  day  for  Africa  and 
I  had  n't  enough  money  to  make  a  fair  start.  I  wanted 
it — my  God,  how  I  wanted  money!" 

"It  couldn't  have  been  worth — that!"  she  cried, 
looking  at  him  wonderingly. 

"  I  was  mad,"  he  continued.  "  I  saw  the  notes  and  they 
went  to  my  head.  Men  do  wild  things  sometimes  when 
they  are  drunk,  or  for  love.  I  don't  drink  much,  and  I'm 
not  over  fond  of  women,  but,  my  God,  money  is  like  the 
blood  of  my  body  to  me !  I  saw  it,  and  I  wanted  it  and  I 
wanted  it,  and  I  went  mad !  Zoe,  you  won't  give  me 
away?  Say  you  won't!" 

" But  what  am  I  to  do ?"  she  protested.  "He  must  not 
suffer." 

"He'll  get  off,"  Morrison  assured  her  thickly.  "I  tell 
you  he'll  get  off.  He's  only  to  part  with  the  document, 
which  never  belonged  to  him,  and  the  charge  will  be 
withdrawn.  They  know  who  the  murdered  man  was. 
They  know  where  the  money  came  from  which  he  was 
carrying.  I  tell  you  he  can  save  himself.  You  would  n't 
dream  of  sending  me  to  the  gallows,  Zoe!" 

"  Stephen  Laverick  will  never  give  up  that  document  to 
those  people,"  she  declared.  "  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"It's  his  own  lookout,"  Morrison  muttered.  "He  has 
the  chance,  anyway." 

She  turned  toward  the  door. 

"I  must  go  away,"  she  said.  "I  must  go  away  and 
think.  It  is  all  too  horrible." 


MORRISON'S    DISCLOSURE  297 

He  came  round  the  table  swiftly  and  caught  at  her 
wrists. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  "I  can't  let  you  go  like  this.  You 
must  tell  me  that  you  are  not  going  to  give  me  up.  Do 
you  hear?" 

"I  can  make  no  promises,  Arthur,"  she  answered 
sadly,  "  only  this  —  I  shall  not  let  Stephen  Laverick  suffer 
in  your  stead." 

He  opened  his  hand  and  she  shrank  back,  terrified, 
when  she  saw  what  it  was  that  he  was  holding.  Then  he 
struck  her  down  and  without  a  backward  glance  fled  out 
of  the  place. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

BELLAMY'S  SUCCESS 

LATE  that  afternoon  the  hall-porter  at  the  Milan  Hotel, 
the  commissionaire,  and  the  chief  maitre  d' hotel  from  the 
Cafe,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  hall,  together  with 
several  others  around  the  place  who  knew  Stephen  La- 
verick  by  sight,  were  treated  to  an  unexpected  surprise. 
A  large  closed  motor-car  drove  up  to  the  front  entrance 
and  several  men  descended,  among  whom  was  Laverick 
himself.  He  nodded  to  the  hall-porter,  whose  salute  was 
purely  mechanical,  and  making  his  way  without  hesita- 
tion to  the  interior  of  the  hotel,  presented  his  receipt  at 
the  cashier's  desk  and  asked  for  his  packet.  The  clerk 
looked  up  at  him  in  amazement.  He  did  not,  for  the 
moment,  notice  that  the  two  men  standing  immediately 
behind  bore  the  stamp  of  plain-clothes  policemen.  He 
had  only  a  few  minutes  ago  finished  reading  the  report  of 
Laverick's  examination  before  the  magistrates  and  his 
remand  until  the  morrow,  upon  the  charge  of  murder. 
His  knowledge  of  English  law  was  by  no  means  per- 
fect, but  he  was  at  least  aware  that  Laverick's  appear- 
ance outside  the  purlieus  of  the  prison  was  an  unusual 
happening. 

"Your  packet,  sir!"  he  repeated,  in  amazement. 
"Why,  this  is  Mr.  Laverick  himself,  is  it  not?" 

"Certainly,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "I  am  Stephen 
Laverick." 

The  clerk  called  the  head  cashier,  who  also  stared  at 


BELLAMY'S    SUCCESS  299 

Laverick  as  though  he  were  a  ghost.  They  whispered 
together  in  the  background  for  a  moment,  and  their 
faces  were  a  study  in  perplexity.  Of  Laverick's  identity, 
however,  there  was  no  manner  of  doubt.  Besides,  the 
presence  of  what  was  obviously  a  very  ample  escort 
somewhat  reassured  them.  The  cashier  himself  came 
forward. 

"We  shall  be  exceedingly  glad,  Mr.  Laverick,"  he 
said  dryly,  "  to  get  rid  of  your  packet.  Your  instructions 
were  that  we  should  disregard  all  orders  to  hand  it  over 
to  any  person  whatsoever,  and  I  may  say  that  they  have 
been  strictly  adhered  to.  We  have,  however,  had  two 
applications  in  your  name  this  morning." 

"They  were  both  forgeries,"  Laverick  declared. 

The  cashier  hesitated.  Then  he  leaned  across  the 
broad  mahogany  counter  towards  Laverick.  One  of  the 
men  who  appeared  to  form  part  of  the  escort  detached 
himself  from  them  and  approached  a  few  steps  nearer. 

"This  gentleman  is  your  friend,  sir?"  the  cashier 
asked,  glancing  towards  him. 

"He  is  my  solicitor,"  Laverick  answered,  "and  is  en- 
tirely in  my  confidence.  If  you  have  anything  to  tell  me, 
I  should  like  Mr.  Bellamy  also  to  hear." 

Bellamy,  who  was  standing  a  little  in  the  background, 
took  his  place  by  Laverick's  side.  The  cashier,  who 
knew  him  by  sight,  bowed. 

"Beside  these  two  forged  orders,  sir,"  he  said,  turning 
again  to  Laverick,  "  we  have  had  a  man  who  took  a  room 
in  the  hotel  leave  a  small  black  bag  here,  which  he  in- 
sisted upon  having  deposited  in  our  document  safe.  My 
assistant  had  accepted  it  and  was  actually  locking  it  up 
when  he  noticed  a  faint  sound  inside  which  he  could  not 
understand.  The  bag  was  opened  and  found  to  contain 


300  HAVOC 

an  infernal  machine  which  would  have  exploded  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

Bellamy  drew  his  breath  sharply  between  his  teeth. 

"We  should  have  thought  of  that!"  he  exclaimed 
softly.  "  That 's  Kahn's  work  ! " 

"I  seem  to  have  given  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble," 
Laverick  remarked  quietly.  "I  gather,  however,  from 
what  you  say,  that  my  packet  is  still  in  your  possession?" 

"It  is,  sir,"  the  man  assented.  "We  have  two  detec- 
tives from  Scotland  Yard  here  at  the  present  moment, 
though,  and  we  had  almost  decided  to  place  it  in  their 
charge  for  greater  security." 

"It  will  be  well  taken  care  of  from  now,  I  promise 
you,"  Laverick  declared. 

The  cashier  and  his  clerk  led  the  way  into  the  inner 
office.  At  their  invitation  Laverick  and  his  solicitor  fol- 
lowed, and  a  few  yards  behind  came  the  two  plain-clothes 
policemen,  Bellamy,  and  the  superintendent.  The  safe 
was  opened  and  the  packet  placed  in  Laverick's  hands. 
He  passed  it  on  at  once  to  Bellamy,  and  immediately 
afterwards  the  doorway  behind  was  thronged  with  men, 
apparently  ordinary  loiterers  around  the  hotel.  They 
made  a  slow  and  exceedingly  cautious  exit.  Once  out- 
side, Bellamy  turned  to  Laverick  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"  Au  revoir  and  good  luck,  old  chap  !"  he  said  heartily. 
"  I  think  you  '11  find  things  go  your  way  all  right  to-morrow 
morning." 

He  departed,  forming  one  of  a  somewhat  singular 
cavalcade  —  two  of  his  friends  on  either  side,  two  in 
front,  and  two  behind.  It  had  almost  the  appearance  of 
a  procession.  The  whole  party  stepped  into  a  closed 
motor-car.  Three  or  four  men  were  lounging  on  the 


BELLAMY'S    SUCCESS  301 

pavement  and  there  was  some  excited  whispering,  but  no 
one  actually  interfered.  As  soon  as  they  had  left  the 
courtyard,  Laverick  and  his  solicitor,  with  his  own  guard, 
re-entered  the  motor-car  in  which  they  had  arrived,  and 
drove  back  to  Bow  Street.  Very  few  words  were  ex- 
changed during  the  short  journey.  His  solicitor,  however, 
bade  him  good-night  cheerfully,  and  Laverick's  bearing 
was  by  no  means  the  bearing  of  a  man  in  despair. 

In  Downing  Street,  within  the  next  half-an-hour,  a 
somewhat  remarkable  little  gathering  took  place.  The 
two  men  chiefly  responsible  for  the  destinies  of  the  nation 
—  the  Prime  Minister  and  the  Secretary  of  State  for 
Foreign  Affairs  —  sat  side  by  side  before  a  small  table. 
Facing  them  was  Bellamy,  and  spread  out  in  front  were 
those  few  pages  of  foolscap,  released  from  their  envelope 
a  few  minutes  ago  for  the  first  time  since  the  hand  of 
the  great  Chancellor  himself  had  pressed  down  the  seal. 
The  Foreign  Minister  had  just  finished  a  translation  for 
the  benefit  of  his  colleague,  and  the  two  men  were  silent, 
as  men  are  in  the  presence  of  big  events. 

"Bellamy,"  the  Prime  Minister  said  slowly,  "you  are 
willing  to  stake,  I  presume,  your  reputation  upon  the 
authenticity  of  this  document?" 

"  My  honor  and  my  life,  if  you  will,"  Bellamy  answered 
earnestly.  "That  is  no  copy  which  you  have  there.  On 
the  contrary,  the  handwriting  is  the  handwriting  of  the 
Chancellor  himself." 

The  Prime  Minister  turned  silently  towards  his  col- 
league. The  latter,  whose  eyes  still  seemed  glued  to  those 
fateful  words,  looked  up. 

"All  I  can  say  is  this,"  he  remarked  impressively, 
"that  never  in  my  time  have  I  seen  written  words  i*-- 


302  HAVOC 

sessed  of  so  much  significance.  One  moment,  if  you 
please." 

He  touched  the  bell,  and  his  private  secretary  entered 
at  once  from  an  adjoining  room. 

"Anthony,"  he  said,  "telephone  to  the  Great  Western 
Railway  Company  at  Paddington.  Ask  for  the  station- 
master  in  my  name,  and  see  that  a  special  train  is  held 
ready  to  depart  for  Windsor  in  half-an-hour.  Tell  the 
station-master  that  all  ordinary  traffic  must  be  held  up,  but 
that  the  destination  of  the  special  is  not  to  be  divulged." 

The  young  man  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"The  more  I  consider  this  matter,"  the  Foreign  Minister 
went  on,  "the  more  miraculous  does  the  appearance  of 
this  document  seem.  We  know  now  why  the  Czar  is 
struggling  so  frantically  to  curtail  his  visit  —  why  he 
came,  as  it  were,  under  protest,  and  seeks  everywhere  for 
an  opportunity  to  leave  before  the  appointed  time.  His 
health  is  all  right.  He  has  had  a  hint  from  Vienna  that 
there  has  been  a  leakage.  His  special  mission  only  reached 
Paris  this  morning.  The  President  is  in  the  country  and 
their  audience  is  not  fixed  until  to-morrow.  Rawson  will 
go  over  with  a  copy  of  these  papers  and  a  dispatch  from 
His  Majesty  by  the  nine  o'clock  train.  It  is  not  often  that 
we  have  had  the  chance  of  such  a  'coup'  as  this." 

He  drew  his  chief  a  few  steps  away.  They  whispered 
together  for  several  moments.  When  they  returned,  the 
Foreign  Minister  rang  the  bell  again  for  his  secretary. 

"Anthony,"  he  said,  "Sir  James  and  I  will  be  leav- 
ing in  a  few  minutes  for  Windsor.  Go  round  yourself 
to  General  Hamilton,  telephone  to  Aldershot  for  Lord 
Neville,  and  call  round  at  the  Admiralty  Board  for  Sir 
John  Harrison.  Tell  them  all  to  be  here  at  ten  o'clock 
to-night.  If  I  am  not  back,  they  must  wait.  If  either 


BELLAMY'S    SUCCESS  303 

of  them  have  royal  commands,  you  need  only  repeat  the 
word  'Finisterre.'  They  will  understand." 

The  young  man  once  more  withdrew.  The  Prime 
Minister  turned  back  to  the  papers. 

"It  will  be  worth  a  great  deal,"  he  remarked,  with  a 
grim  smile,  "to  see  His  Majesty's  face  when  he  reads 
this." 

"It  would  be  worth  a  great  deal  more,"  his  fellow 
statesman  answered  dryly,  "to  be  with  his  august  cousin 
at  the  interview  which  will  follow.  A  month  ago,  the 
thought  that  war  might  come  under  our  administration 
was  a  continual  terror  to  me.  To-day  things  are  entirely 
different.  To-day  it  really  seems  that  if  war  does  come, 
it  may  be  the  most  glorious  happening  for  England  of 
this  century.  You  saw  the  last  report  from  Kiel  ? " 

Sir  James  nodded. 

"  There  is  n't  a  battleship  or  a  cruiser  worth  a  snap  of 
the  fingers  south  of  the  German  Ocean,"  his  colleague 
continued  earnestly.  "  They  are  cooped  up  —  safe  enough, 
they  think  —  under  the  shelter  of  their  fortifications. 
Hamilton  has  another  idea.  Between  you  and  me,  Sir 
James,  so  have  I.  I  tell  you,"  he  went  on,  in  a  deeper  and 
more  passionate  tone,  "it's  like  the  passing  of  a  terrible 
nightmare  —  this.  We  have  had  ten  years  of  panic,  of 
nervous  fears  of  a  German  invasion,  and  no  one  knows 
more  than  you  and  I,  Sir  James,  how  much  cause  we 
have  had  for  those  fears.  It  will  seem  strange  if,  after 
all,  history  has  to  write  that  chapter  differently." 

The  secretary  re-entered  and  announced  the  result  of 
his  telephone  interview  with  the  superintendent  at  Pad- 
dington.  The  two  great  men  rose.  The  Prime  Minister 
held  out  his  hand  to  Bellamy. 

"Bellamy,"  he  declared,  "you've  done  us  one  more 


304  HAVOC 

important  service.  There  may  be  work  for  you  within 
the  next  few  weeks,  but  you've  earned  a  rest  for  a  day  or 
two,  at  any  rate.  There  is  nothing  more  we  can  do?" 

"Nothing  except  a  letter  to  the  Home  Secretary,  Sir 
James,"  Bellamy  answered.  "Remember,  sir,  that  al- 
though I  have  worked  hard,  the  man  to  whom  we  really 
owe  those  papers  is  Stephen  Laverick." 

The  Prime  Minister  frowned  thoughtfully. 

"It's  a  difficult  situation,  Bellamy,"  he  said.  "You 
are  asking  a  great  deal  when  you  suggest  that  we  should 
interfere  in  the  slightest  manner  with  the  course  of  jus- 
tice. You  are  absolutely  convinced,  I  suppose,  that  this 
man  Laverick  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder?" 

"Absolutely  and  entirely,  sir,"  Bellamy  replied. 

"The  murdered  man  has  never  been  identified  by  the 
police,"  Sir  James  remarked.  "Who  was  he?" 

"His  name  was  Rudolph  Von  Behrling,"  Bellamy  an- 
nounced, "and  he  was  actually  the  Chancellor's  nephew, 
also  his  private  secretary.  I  have  told  you  the  history, 
sir,  of  those  papers.  It  was  Von  Behrling  who,  without  a 
doubt,  murdered  the  American  journalist  and  secured 
them.  It  was  he  who  insisted  upon  coming  to  London 
instead  of  returning  with  them  to  Vienna,  which  would  have 
been  the  most  obvious  course  for  him  to  have  adopted.  He 
was  a  pauper,  and  desperately  in  love  with  a  certain  lady 
who  has  helped  me  throughout  this  matter.  He  agreed 
to  part  with  the  papers  for  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and 
the  lady  incidentally  promised  to  elope  with  him  the  same 
night.  I  met  him  by  appointment  at  that  little  restaurant 
in  the  city,  paid  him  the  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and 
received  the  false  packet  which  you  remember  I  brought 
to  you,  sir.  As  a  matter  ?£  fact,  Von  Behrling,  either  by 
accident  or  design,  and  no  man  now  will  ever  know  which, 


BELLAMY'S    SUCCESS  305 

left  me  with  those  papers  which  I  was  supposed  to  have 
bought  in  his  possession,  and  also  the  money.  Within 
five  minutes  he  was  murdered.  Doubtless  we  shall  know 
sometime  by  whom,  but  it  was  not  by  Stephen  Laverick. 
Laverick's  share  in  the  whole  thing  was  nothing  but  this 
—  that  he  found  the  pocket-book,  and  that  he  made  use 
of  the  notes  in  his  business  for  twenty-four  hours  to  save 
himself  from  ruin.  That  was  unjustifiable,  of  course. 
He  has  made  atonement.  The  notes  at  this  minute  are  in 
a  safe  deposit  vault  and  will  be  returned  intact  to  the  fund 
from  which  they  came.  I  want,  also,  to  impress  upon 
you,  Sir  James,  the  fact  that  Baron  de  Streuss  offered  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds  for  that  letter." 

Sir  James  nodded  thoughtfully.  He  stooped  down  and 
scrawled  a  few  lines  on  half  a  sheet  of  note-paper. 

"You  must  take  this  to  Lord  Estcourt  at  once,"  he  said, 
''and  tell  him  the  whole  affair,  omitting  all  specific  infor- 
mation as  to  the  nature  of  the  papers.  The  thing  must 
be  arranged,  of  course." 

Half-a-dozen  reporters,  who  had  somehow  got  hold  of 
the  fact  that  the  Prime  Minister  and  his  colleague  from 
the  Foreign  Office  were  going  down  to  Windsor  on  a 
special  mission,  folio  wed  them,  but  even  they  remained  alto- 
gether in  the  dark  as  to  the  events  which  were  really  trans- 
piring. They  knew  nothing  of  the  interview  between  the 
Czar  and  his  august  host  —  an  interview  which  in  itself 
was  a  chapter  in  the  history  of  these  times.  They  knew 
nothing  of  the  reason  of  their  royal  visitor's  decision  to  pro- 
long his  visit  instead  of  shortening  it,  or  of  his  autograph 
letter  to  the  President  of  the  French  Republic,  which 
reached  Paris  even  before  the  special  mission  from  St. 
Petersburg  had  presented  themselves.  The  one  thing 


306  HAVOC 

which  they  did  know,  and  that  alone  was  significant  enough, 
was  that  the  Czar's  Foreign  Minister  was  cabled  for  that 
night  to  come  to  his  master  by  special  train  from  St. 
Petersburg.  At  the  Austrian  and  German  Embassies, 
forewarned  by  a  report  from  Baron  de  Streuss,  something 
like  consternation  reigned.  The  Russian  Ambassador, 
heckled  to  death,  took  refuge  at  Windsor  under  pretence 
of  a  command  from  his  royal  master.  The  happiest  man 
in  London  was  Prince  Rosmaran. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

LAVERICK    ACQUITTED 

AT  mid-day  on  the  following  morning  Laverick  stepped 
down  from  the  dock  at  Bow  Street  and,  as  the  evening 
papers  put  it,  "  in  company  with  his  friends  left  the 
court."  The  proceedings  altogether  took  scarcely  more 
than  half-an-hour.  Laverick's  solicitor  first  put  Shep- 
herd in  the  box,  who  gave  his  account  of  Morrison's  visit 
to  the  restaurant,  spoke  of  his  hurried  exit,  and  identified 
the  knife  which  he  had  seen  him  snatch  up.  Cross-ex- 
amined as  to  why  he  had  kept  silent,  he  explained  that 
Mr.  Morrison  had  been  a  good  customer  and  he  saw  no 
reason  why  he  should  give  unsolicited  evidence  which 
would  cost  a  man  his  life.  Directly,  however,  another 
man  had  been  accused,  the  matter  appeared  to  him  to  be 
altogether  different.  He  had  come  forward  the  moment 
he  had  heard  of  Laverick's  arrest,  to  offer  his  evidence. 

While  the  opinion  of  the  court  was  still  undecided, 
Laverick's  solicitor  called  Miss  Zoe  Leneveu.  A  little 
murmur  of  interest  ran  through  the  court.  Laverick  him- 
self started.  Zoe  stepped  into  the  witness-box,  looking 
exceedingly  pale,  and  with  a  bandage  over  the  upper  part 
of  her  head.  She  admitted  that  she  was  the  half-sister 
of  Arthur  Morrison,  although  there  was  no  blood  relation- 
ship. She  described  his  sudden  visit  to  her  rooms  on  the 
night  of  the  murder,  and  his  state  of  great  alarm.  She 
declared  that  he  had  confessed  to  her  on  the  previous 
afternoon  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  the  murder  in  question. 

Her  place  in  the  witness-box  was  taken  by  the  Honorable 


308  HAVOC 

David  Bellamy.  He  declared  that  the  prisoner  was  an 
old  friend  of  his,  and  that  the  twenty  thousand  pounds  of 
which  he  had  been  recently  possessed,  had  come  from 
him  for  investment  in  Laverick's  business.  The  circum- 
stances, he  admitted,  were  somewhat  peculiar,  and  until 
negotiations  had  been  concluded  Mr.  Laverick  had 
doubtless  felt  uncertain  how  to  make  use  of  the  money. 
But  he  assured  the  court  that  there  was  no  person  who 
had  any  claim  to  the  sum  of  money  in  question  save  him- 
self, and  that  he  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  use  to  which 
Laverick  had  put  it. 

Laverick  was  discharged  within  a  very  few  minutes, 
and  a  warrant  was  issued  for  the  apprehension  of  Mor- 
rison. Laverick  found  Bellamy  waiting  for  him,  and  was 
hurried  into  his  motor. 

"Well,  you  see,"  the  latter  exclaimed,  "we  kept  our 
word !  That  dear  plucky  little  friend  of  yours  turned  the 
scale,  but  in  any  case  I  think  that  there  would  not  have 
been  much  trouble  about  the  matter.  The  magistrate 
had  received  a  communication  direct  from  the  Home 
Secretary  concerning  your  case." 

"I  am  very  grateful  indeed,"  Laverick  declared.  "I 
tell  you  I  think  I  am  very  lucky.  I  wish  I  knew  what 
had  become  of  Miss  Leneveu.  The  usher  told  me  she 
left  the  court  before  we  came  out." 

"I  asked  her  to  go  straight  back  to  her  rooms,"  Bellamy 
said.  "You  must  excuse  me  for  interfering,  Laverick, 
but  I  found  her  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse  last  night 
in  Jermyn  Street.  I  was  having  Morrison  watched,  and 
my  man  reported  to  me  that  he  had  left  his  rooms  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement,  and  that  a  young  lady  was  there 
who  appeared  to  be  seriously  injured." 

"  D — d  scamp ! "  Laverick  muttered. 


LAVERICK    ACQUITTED  309 

"I  did  everything  I  could,"  Bellamy  continued.  "I 
fetched  her  at  once  and  sent  her  back  to  her  house  with 
a  hospital  nurse  and  some  one  to  look  after  her.  The 
wound  was  n't  serious,  but  the  fellow  must  have  been  a 
brute  indeed  to  have  lifted  his  hand  against  such  a  child. 
I  wonder  whether  he'll  get  away." 

"I  should  doubt  it,"  Laverick  remarked.  "He  has  n't 
the  nerve.  He'll  probably  get  drunk  and  blow  his  brains 
out.  He's  a  broken-spirited  cur,  after  all." 

"You'll  have  some  lunch?"   Bellamy  asked. 

Laverick  shook  his  head. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like  to  go  on  and  see  Miss 
Leneveu." 

"Put  me  down  at  the  club,  then,  and  take  my  car  on, 
if  you  will." 

Laverick  walked  up  and  down  the  pavement  outside 
Zoe's  little  house  for  nearly  half-an-hour.  He  had  found 
the  door  closed  and  locked,  and  a  neighbor  had  informed 
him  that  Miss  Leneveu  had  gone  out  in  a  cab  with  the 
nurse,  some  time  ago,  and  had  not  returned.  Laverick 
sent  Bellamy's  car  back  and  waited.  Presently  a  four- 
wheel  cab  came  round  the  corner  and  stopped  in  front  of 
her  house.  Laverick  opened  the  door  and  helped  Zoe 
out.  She  was  as  white  as  death,  and  the  nurse  who  was 
with  her  was  looking  anxious. 

"You  are  safe,  then?"  she  murmured,  holding  out  her 
hands. 

"Quite,"  he  answered.     "You  dear  little  girl!" 

Zoe  had  fainted,  however,  and  Laverick  hurried  out 
for  the  doctor.  Curiously  enough,  it  was  the  same  man 
who  only  a  week  or  so  ago  had  come  to  see  Arthur 
Morrison. 


3io  HAVOC 

"She  has  had  a  bad  scalp  wound,"  he  declared,  "and 
her  nervous  system  is  very  much  run  down.  There  is 
nothing  serious.  She  seems  to  have  just  escaped  con- 
cussion. The  nurse  had  better  stay  with  her  for  another 
day,  at  any  rate." 

"You  are  sure  that  it  isn't  serious?"  Laverick  asked 
eagerly. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  the  doctor  answered  dryly.  "I 
see  worse  wounds  every  day  of  my  life.  I'll  come  again 
to-morrow,  if  you  like,  but  it  really  is  n't  necessary  with 
the  nurse  on  the  spot." 

His  natural  pessimism  was  for  a  moment  lightened  by 
the  fee  which  Laverick  pressed  upon  him,  and  he  departed 
with  a  few  more  encouraging  words.  Laverick  stayed 
and  talked  for  a  short  time  with  the  nurse. 

"She  has  gone  off  to  sleep  now,  sir,"  the  latter  an- 
nounced. "There  is  n't  anything  to  worry  about.  She 
seems  as  though  she  had  been  having  a  hard  time, 
though.  There  was  scarcely  a  thing  in  the  house  but 
half  a  packet  of  tea  —  and  these." 

She  held  up  a  packet  of  pawn  tickets. 

"I  found  these  in  a  drawer  when  I  came,"  she  said. 
"I  had  to  look  round,  because  there  was  no  money  and 
nothing  whatever  in  the  house." 

Laverick  was  suddenly  conscious  of  an  absurd  mistiness 
before  his  eyes. 

"Poor  little  woman!"  he  murmured.  "I  think  she'd 
sooner  have  starved  than  ask  for  help." 

The  nurse  smiled. 

"I  thought  at  first  that  she  was  rather  a  vain  young 
lady,"  she  remarked.  "An  empty  larder  and  a  pile  of 
pawn  tickets,  and  a  new  hat  with  a  receipted  bill  for 
thirty  shillings,"  she  added,  pointing  to  the  sofa. 


LAVERICK    ACQUITTED  311 

Laverick  placed  some  notes  in  her  hands. 

"Please  keep  these,"  he  begged,  "and  see  that  she  has 
everything  she  wants.  I  shall  be  here  again  later  in  the 
day.  There  is  not  the  slightest  need  for  all  this.  She  will 
be  quite  well  off  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  Will  you  try  and 
engage  some  one  for  a  day  or  two  to  come  in  until  she  is 
able  to  be  moved?" 

"I'll  look  after  her,"  the  nurse  promised. 

Laverick  went  reluctantly  away.  The  events  of  the  last 
few  days  were  becoming  more  and  more  like  a  dream  to 
him.  He  went  to  his  club  almost  from  habit.  Presently 
the  excitement  which  all  London  seemed  to  be  sharing 
drove  his  own  personal  feelings  a  little  into  the  back- 
ground. The  air  was  full  of  rumors.  The  Prime  Min- 
ister and  the  Foreign  Secretary  were  spoken  of  as  one 
speaks  of  heroes.  Nothing  was  definitely  known,  but 
there  was  a  splendid  feeling  of  confidence  that  for  once 
in  her  history  England  was  preparing  to  justify  her 
existence  as  a  great  Power. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE    PLOT    THAT    FAILED 

THE  progress  of  the  Czar  from  Buckingham  Palace  to  the 
Mansion  House,  where  he  had,  after  all,  consented  to 
lunch  with  the  Lord  Mayor,  witnessed  a  popular  out- 
burst of  enthusiasm  absolutely  inexplicable  to  the  general 
public.  It  was  known  that  affairs  in  Central  Europe  were 
in  a  dangerously  precarious  state,  and  it  was  felt  that  the 
Czar's  visit  here,  and  the  urgent  summons  which  had 
brought  from  St.  Petersburg  his  Foreign  Minister,  were 
indications  that  the  long  wished-for  entente  between  Russia 
and  this  country  was  now  actually  at  hand.  There  was 
in  the  Press  a  curious  reticence  with  regard  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  political  situation.  One  felt  everywhere  that 
it  was  the  calm  before  the  storm  —  that  at  any  moment 
the  great  black  headlines  might  tell  of  some  startling 
stroke  of  diplomacy,  some  dangerous  peril  averted  or 
defied.  The  circumstances  themselves  of  the  Czar's  visit 
had  been  a  little  peculiar.  On  his  arrival  it  was  announced 
that,  for  reasons  of  health,  the  original  period  of  his  stay, 
namely  a  week,  was  to  be  cut  down  to  two  days.  No 
sooner  had  he  arrived  at  Windsor,  however,  than  a  change 
was  announced.  The  Czar  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be 
able  even  to  extend  the  period  at  first  fixed  for  his  visit. 
Simultaneously  with  this,  the  German  and  Austrian  Press 
were  full  of  bitter  and  barely  veiled  articles,  whose  meaning 
was  unmistakable.  The  Czar  had  thrown  in  his  lot  at 
first  with  Austria  and  Germany.  That  he  was  going 


THE    PLOT    THAT    FAILED          313 

deliberately  to  break  away  from  that  arrangement  there 
seemed  now  scarcely  any  manner  of  doubt. 

Bellamy  and  Louise,  from  a  window  in  Fleet  Street, 
watched  him  go  by.  Prince  Rosmaran  had  been  specially 
bidden  to  the  luncheon,  but  he,  too,  had  been  with  them 
earlier  in  the  morning.  Afterwards  they  turned  their 
backs  upon  the  city,  and  as  soon  as  the  crowd  had  thinned 
made  their  way  to  one  of  the  west-end  restaurants. 

"It  seems  too  good  to  be  true,"  declared  Louise. 

Bellamy  nodded. 

"Nevertheless  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  true.  The 
humor  of  the  whole  thing  is  that  it  was  our  friends  in 
Germany  themselves  who  pressed  the  Czar  not  to  alto- 
gether cancel  his  visit  for  fear  of  exciting  suspicion.  That, 
of  course,  was  when  there  seemed  to  be  no  question  of  the 
news  of  the  Vienna  compact  leaking  out.  They  would 
never  have  dared  .to  expose  a  man  to  such  a  trial  as  the 
Czar  must  have  faced  when  the  resume  of  the  Vienna  pro- 
ceedings, in  the  Chancellor's  own  handwriting,  was  read 
to  him  at  Windsor." 

"You  saw  the  telegram  from  Paris?"  Louise  inter- 
posed. "The  special  mission  from  St.  Petersburg  has 
been  recalled." 

Bellamy  smiled. 

"It  all  goes  to  prove  what  I  say,"  he  went  on.  "Any 
morning  you  may  expect  to  hear  that  Austria  and  Germany 
have  received  an  ultimatum." 

"I  wonder,"  she  remarked,  "what  became  of  Streuss." 

"He  is  hiding  somewhere  in  London,  without  a  doubt." 
Bellamy  answered.  "There's  always  plenty  of  work  for 
spies." 

"Don't  use  that  word,"  she  begged. 

He  made  a  little  grimace. 


314  HAVOC 

"You  are  thinking  of  my  own  connection  with  the  pro- 
fession, are  you  not?"  he  asked.  "Well,  that  counts  for 
nothing  now.  I  hope  I  may  still  serve  my  country  for 
many  years,  but  it  must  be  in  a  different  way." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded. 

"I  heard  from  my  uncle's  solicitors  this  morning," 
Bellamy  continued,  "that  he  is  very  feeble  and  cannot 
live  more  than  a  few  months.  When  he  dies,  of  course,  I 
must  take  my  place  in  the  House  of  Lords.  It  is  his  wish 
that  I  should  not  leave  England  again  now,  so  I  suppose 
there  is  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  give  it  up.  I  have  done 
my  share  of  traveling  and  work,  after  all,"  he  concluded, 
thoughtfully. 

"Your  share,  indeed,"  she  murmured.  "Remember 
that  but  for  that  document  which  was  read  to  the  Czar 
at  Windsor,  Servia  must  have  gone  down,  and  England 
would  have  had  to  take  a  place  among  the  second-class 
Powers.  There  may  be  war  now,  it  is  true,  but  it  will  be 
a  glorious  war." 

"Louise,  very  soon  we  shall  know.  Until  then  I  will 
say  nothing.  But  I  do  not  want  you  altogether  to  forget 
that  there  has  been  something  in  my  life  dearer  to  me 
even  than  my  career  for  these  last  few  years." 

Her  blue  eyes  were  suddenly  soft.  She  looked  across 
towards  him  wistfully. 

"Dear,"  she  whispered,  "things  will  be  altered  with 
you  now.  I  am  not  fit  to  be  the  wife  of  an  English  peer  — 
I  am  not  noble." 

He  laughed. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  assured  her,  "that  I  am  democrat 
enough  to  think  you  one  of  the  noblest  women  on  earth. 
W7hy  should  I  not?  Your  life  itself  has  been  a  study  in 
devotion.  The  modern  virtues  seem  almost  to  ignore 


THE    PLOT    THAT    FAILED  315 

patriotism,  yet  the  love  of  one's  country  is  a  splendid  thing. 
But  don't  you  think,  Louise,  that  we  have  done  our  work 
—  that  it  is  time  to  think  of  ourselves?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Let  us  see,"  she  said.  "Let  us  wait  for  a  little  time 
and  see  what  comes." 

That  night  another  proof  of  the  popular  feeling,  abso- 
lutely spontaneous,  broke  out  in  one  of  the  least  expected 
places.  Louise  was  encored  for  her  wonderful  solo  in  a 
modern  opera  of  bellicose  trend,  and  instead  of  repeating 
it  she  came  alone  on  the  stage  after  a  few  minutes'  absence, 
dressed  in  Servian  national  dress.  For  a  short  time  the 
costume  was  not  recognized.  Then  the  music  —  the 
national  hymn  of  Servia,  and  the  recollection  of  her 
parentage,  brought  the  thing  home  to  the  audience.  They 
did  not  even  wait  for  her  to  finish.  In  the  middle  of  her 
song  the  applause  broke  like  a  crash  of  thunder.  From 
the  packed  gallery  to  the  stalls  they  cheered  her  wildly, 
madly.  A  dozen  times  she  came  before  the  curtain.  It 
seemed  impossible  that  they  would  ever  let  her  go.  Directly 
she  turned  to  leave  the  stage,  the  uproar  broke  out  again. 
The  manager  at  last  insisted  upon  it  that  she  should  speak 
a  few  words.  She  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  stage  amid  a 
silence  as  complete  as  the  previous  applause  had  been 
unanimous.  Her  voice  reached  easily  to  every  place  in 
the  House. 

"I  thank  you  all  very  much,"  she  said.  "I  am  very 
happy  indeed  to  be  in  London,  because  it  is  the  capital 
city  of  the  most  generous  country  in  the  world  —  the 
country  that  is  always  ready  to  protect  and  help  her  weaker 
neighbors.  I  am  a  Servian,  and  I  love  my  country,  and 
therefore,"  she  added,  with  a  little  break  in  her  voice,— 
"therefore  I  love  you  all." 


3i6  HAVOC 

It  was  nearly  midnight  before  the  audience  was  got  rid 
of,  and  the  streets  of  London  had  not  been  so  impassable 
for  years.  Crowds  made  their  way  to  the  front  of  Buck- 
ingham Palace  and  on  to  the  War  Office,  where  men 
were  working  late.  Everything  seemed  to  denote  that  the 
spirit  of  the  country  was  roused.  The  papers  next  morn- 
ing made  immense  capital  of  the  incident,  and  for  the 
following  twenty-four  hours  suspense  throughout  the 
country  was  almost  at  fever  height.  It  was  known  that 
the  Cabinet  Council  had  been  sitting  for  six  hours.  It 
was  known,  too,  that  without  the  least  commotion,  with 
scarcely  any  movements  of  ships  that  could  be  called 
directly  threatening,  the  greatest  naval  force  which  the 
world  had  ever  known  was  assembling  off  Dover.  The 
stock  markets  were  wildly  excited.  Laverick,  back  again 
in  his  office,  found  that  his  return  to  his  accustomed 
haunts  occasioned  scarcely  any  comment.  More  startling 
events  were  shaping  themselves.  His  own  remarkable  ad- 
venture remained,  curiously  enough,  almost  undiscussed. 

He  left  the  office  shortly  before  his  usual  time,  not- 
withstanding the  rush  of  business,  and  drove  at  once  to 
the  little  house  in  Theobald  Square.  Zoe  was  lying  on 
the  sofa,  still  white,  but  eager  to  declare  that  the  pain 
had  gone  and  that  she  was  no  longer  suffering. 

"It  is  too  absurd,"  she  declared,  smiling,  "my  having 
this  nurse  here.  Really,  there  is  nothing  whatever  the 
matter  with  me.  I  should  have  gone  to  the  theatre,  but 
you  see  it  is  no  use." 

She  passed  him  the  letter  which  she  had  been  reading, 
and  which  contained  her  somewhat  curt  dismissal.  He 
laughed  as  he  tore  it  into  pieces. 

"Are  you  so  sorry,  Zoe?  Is  the  stage  so  wonderful  a 
place  that  you  could  not  bear  to  think  of  leaving  it  ?  " 


THE    PLOT    THAT    FAILED          317 

She  shook  her  head. 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  whispered.  "You  know  that  it  Is 
not  that." 

He  smiled  as  he  took  her  confidently  into  his  arms. 

"There  is  a  much  more  arduous  life  in  front  of  you, 
dear,"  he  said.  "You  have  to  come  and  look  after  me 
for  the  rest  of  your  days.  A  bachelor  who  marries  as  late 
in  life  as  I  do,  you  know,  is  a  trying  sort  of  person." 

She  shrank  away  a  little. 

"You  don't  mean  it,"  she  murmured. 

"You  know  very  well  that  I  mean  it,"  he  answered, 
kissing  her.  "I  think  you  knew  from  the  very  first  that 
sooner  or  later  you  were  doomed  to  become  my  wife." 

She  sighed  faintly  and  half-closed  her  eyes.  For  the 
moment  she  had  forgotten  everything.  She  was  abso- 
lutely and  completely  happy. 

Later  on  he  made  her  dress  and  come  out  to  dinner, 
and  afterwards,  as  they  sat  talking,  he  laid  an  evening 
paper  before  her. 

"Zoe,"  he  declared,  "the  best  thing  that  could  has  hap- 
pened. You  will  not  be  foolish,  dear,  about  it,  I  know. 
Remember  the  alternative — and  read  that." 

She  glanced  at  the  few  lines  which  announced  the 
finding  of  Arthur  Morrison  in  a  house  in  Bloomsbury 
Square.  The  police  had  apparently  tracked  him  down, 
and  he  had  shot  himself  at  the  final  moment.  The  details 
of  his  last  few  hours  were  indescribable.  Zoe  shuddered, 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  smiled  bravely  in  his 
face,  however. 

"It  is  terrible,"  she  whispered  simply,  "but,  after  all, 
he  was  no  relation  of  mine,  and  he  tried  to  do  you  a  fright- 
ful injury.  When  I  think  of  that,  I  find  it  hard  even  to  be 
sorry." 


3i8  HAVOC 

There  was  indeed  almost  a  pitiless  look  in  her  face  as 
she  folded  up  the  paper,  as  though  she  felt  something  of 
that  common  instinct  of  her  sex  which  transforms  a 
gentle  woman  so  quickly  into  a  hard,  merciless  creature 
when  the  being  whom  she  loves  is  threatened. 

Laverick  smiled. 

"Let  us  go  out  into  the  streets,"  he  said,  "and  hear 
what  all  this  excitement  is  about." 

They  bought  a  late  edition,  and  there  it  was  at  last  in 
black  and  white.  An  ultimatum  had  been  presented  at 
Berlin  and  Vienna.  Certain  treaty  rights  which  had 
been  broken  with  regard  to  Austria's  action  in  the  East 
were  insisted  upon  by  Great  Britain.  It  was  demanded 
that  Austria  should  cease  the  mobilization  of  her  troops 
upon  the  Servian  frontier,  and  renounce  all  rights  to  a 
protectorate  over  that  country,  whose  independence  Great 
Britain  felt  called  upon,  from  that  time  forward,  to  guar- 
antee. It  was  further  announced  that  England,  France, 
and  Russia  were  acting  in  this  matter  in  complete  con- 
cert, and  that  the  neutrality  of  Italy  was  assured.  Fur- 
ther, it  was  known  that  the  great  English  fleet  had  left 
for  the  North  Sea  with  sealed  orders. 

Laverick  took  Zoe  home  early  and  called  later  at  Bel- 
lamy's rooms.  Bellamy  greeted  him  heartily.  He  was 
on  the  point  of  going  out,  and  the  two  men  drove  off 
together  in  the  latter's  car. 

"See,  my  dear  friend,"  Bellamy  exclaimed,  "what 
great  things  come  from  small  means!  The  document 
which  you  preserved  for  us,  and  for  which  we  had  to 
fight  so  hard,  has  done  all  this." 

"It  is  marvelous!"  Laverick  murmured. 

"It  is  very  simple,"  Bellamy  declared.  "That  meet- 
ing in  Vienna  was  meant  to  force  our  hands.  It  is  all  a 


THE    PLOT    THAT    FAILED          319 

question  of  the  balance  of  strength,  Germany  and  Austria 
together,  with  Russia  friendly,  —  even  with  Russia  neu- 
tral, —  could  have  defied  Europe.  Germany  could  have 
spread  out  her  army  westwards  while  Austria  seized  upon 
her  prey.  It  was  a  splendid  plot,  and  it  was  going  very 
well  until  the  Czar  himself  was  suddenly  confronted  by 
our  King  and  his  Ministers  with  a  revelation  of  the  whole 
affair.  At  Windsor  the  thing  seemed  different  to  him. 
The  French  Government  behaved  splendidly,  and  the 
Czar  behaved  like  a  man.  Germany  and  Austria  are 
left  plante  la.  If  they  fight,  well,  it  will  be  no  one-sided 
affair.  They  have  no  fleet,  or  rather  they  will  have  none 
in  a  fortnight's  time.  They  have  no  means  of  landing 
an  army  here.  Austria,  perhaps,  can  hold  Russia,  but 
with  a  French  army  in  better  shape  than  it  has  been  for 
years,  and  the  English  landing  as  many  men  as  they  care 
to  do,  with  ease,  anywhere  on  the  norlh  coast  of  Germany, 
the  entire  scheme  proved  abortive.  Come  into  the  club 
and  have  a  drink,  Laverick.  To-day  great  things  have 
happened  to  me." 

"And  to  me,"  Laverick  interposed. 

"You  can  guess  my  news,  perhaps,"  Bellamy  said, 
as  they  seated  themselves  in  easy-chairs.  "Mademoiselle 
Idiale  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

Laverick  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  congratulate  you  heartily!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have 
been  an  engaged  man  myself  for  something  like  half- 
an-hour." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

A    FAEEWEI/L    APPEARANCE 

"ONE  thing,  at  least,  these  recent  adventures  should 
teach  whoever  may  be  responsible  for  the  government  of 
this  country,"  Bellamy  remarked  to  his  wife,  as  he  laid 
down  the  morning  paper.  "For  the  first  time  in  many 
years  we  have  taken  the  aggressive  against  Powers  of 
equal  standing.  We  were  always  rather  good  at  bullying 
smaller  countries,  but  the  bare  idea  of  an  ultimatum  to 
Germany  would  have  made  our  late  *  Premier  go  light- 
headed." 

"And  yet  it  succeeded,"  Louise  reminded  him. 

"Absolutely,"  he  affirmed.  "To-day's  news  makes 
peace  a  certainty.  If  your  country  knew  everything, 
Louise,  they'd  give  us  a  royal  welcome  next  month." 

"You  really  mean  that  we  are  to  go  there,  then?"  she 
asked. 

"It  is  n't  exactly  one  of  my  privileges,"  he  declared, 
"to  fix  upon  the  spot  where  we  shall  take  our  belated 
honeymoon,  but  I  have  n't  been  in  Belgrade  for  years, 
and  I  know  you'd  like  to  see  your  people." 

"It  will  be  more  happiness  than  I  ever  dreamed  of," 
she  murmured.  "Do  you  think  we  shall  be  safe  in  passing 
through  Vienna  ?  " 

Bellamy  laughed. 

"Remember,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  no  longer  David 
Bellamy,  with  a  silver  greyhound  attached  to  my  watch- 
chain  and  an  obnoxious  reputation  in  foreign  countries. 


FAREWELL    APPEARANCE  321 

I  am  Lord  Denchester  of  Denchester,  a  harmless  English 
peer  traveling  on  his  honeymoon.  By  the  way,  I  hope 
you  like  the  title." 

"I  shall  love  it  when  I  get  used  to  it,"  she  declared. 
"To  be  an  English  Countess  is  dazzling,  but  I  do  think 
that  I  ought  not  to  go  on  singing  at  Covent  Garden." 

"To-morrow  will  be  your  last  night,"  he  reminded  her. 
"I  have  asked  Laverick  and  the  dear  little  girl  he  is  going 
to  marry  to  come  with  me.  Afterwards  we  must  all  have 
supper  together." 

"How  nice  of  you!"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  Bellamy  said,  smiling. 
"I  really  like  Laverick.  He  is  a  decent  fellow  and  a 
good  sort.  Incidentally,  he  was  thundering  useful  to  us, 
and  pretty  plucky  about  it.  He  interests  me,  too,  in  an- 
other way.  He  is  a  man  who,  face  to  face  with  a  moral 
problem,  acted  exactly  as  I  should  have  done  myself!" 

"You  mean  about  the  twenty  thousand  pounds?"  she 
asked. 

Bellamy  assented. 

"He  was  practically  dishonest,"  he  pointed  out.  "He 
had  no  right  to  use  that  money  and  he  ought  to  have 
taken  the  pocket-book  to  the  police-station.  If  he  had 
done  so  —  that  is  to  say,  if  he  had  waited  there  for  the 
police,  if  he  had  been  seen  to  hold  out  that  pocket-book, 
to  have  discussed  it  with  any  one,  it  is  ten  to  one  that  there 
would  have  been  another  tragedy  that  night.  At  any 
rate,  the  document  would  never  have  come  to  us." 

She  smiled. 

"My  moral  judgment  is  warped,"  she  asserted,  "from 
the  fact  that  Laverick's  decision  brought  us  the  document." 

He  nodded. 

" Perhaps  so,"  he  agreed,  "and  yet,  there  was  the  man 


322  HAVOC 

face  to  face  with  ruin.  The  use  of  that  money  for  a  few 
hours  did  no  one  any  harm,  and  saved  him.  I  say  that 
such  a  deed  is  always  a  matter  of  calculation,  and  in  this 
case  that  he  was  justified." 

"I  wonder  what  he  really  thinks  about  it  himself,"  she 
remarked. 

"Perhaps  I'll  ask  him." 

But  when  the  time  came,  and  he  sat  in  the  box  with 
Laverick  and  Zoe,  he  forgot  everything  else  in  the  joy  of 
watching  the  woman  whom  he  had  loved  so  long.  She 
moved  about  the  stage  that  night  as  though  her  feet  in- 
deed fell  upon  the  air.  She  appeared  to  be  singing  always 
with  restraint,  yet  with  some  new  power  in  her  voice,  a 
quality  which  even  in  her  simpler  notes  left  the  great 
audience  thrilled.  Already  there  was  a  rumor  that  it  was 
her  last  appearance.  Her  marriage  to  Bellamy  had  been 
that  day  announced  in  the  Morning  Post.  When,  in  the 
last  act,  she  sang  alone  on  the  stage  the  famous  love  song, 
it  seemed  to  them  all  that  although  her  voice  trembled 
more  than  once,  it  was  a  new  thing  to  which  they  listened. 
Zoe  found  herself  clasping  Laverick's  hand  in  tremulous 
excitement.  Bellamy  sat  like  a  statue,  a  little  back  in 
the  box,  his  clean-cut  face  thrown  into  powerful  relief  by 
the  shadows  beyond.  Yet,  as  he  listened,  his  eyes,  too, 
were  marvelously  soft.  The  song  grew  and  grew  till, 
with  the  last  notes,  the  whole  story  of  an  exquisite  and 
expectant  passion  seemed  trembling  in  her  voice.  The 
last  note  came  from  her  lips  almost  as  though  unwillingly, 
and  was  prolonged  for  an  extraordinary  period.  When 
it  died  away,  its  passing  seemed  something  almost  un- 
realizable. It  quivered  away  into  a  silence  which  lasted 
for  many  seconds  before  the  gathering  rear  of  applause 
swept  the  house.  And  in  those  last  few  seconds  she  had 


FAREWELL    APPEARANCE  323 

turned  and  faced  Bellamy.  Their  eyes  met,  and  the  light 
which  flashed  from  his  seemed  answered  by  the  quivering 
of  her  throat.  It  was  her  good-bye.  She  was  singing  a 
new  love-song,  singing  her  way  into  the  life  of  the  man 
whom  she  loved,  singing  her  way  into  love  itself.  Once 
more  the  great  house,  packed  to  the  ceiling,  was  worked 
up  to  a  state  of  frenzied  excitement.  Bellamy  was  recog- 
nized, and  the  significance  of  her  song  sent  a  wave  of 
sentiment  through  the  house  whose  only  possible  form 
of  expression  took  to  itself  shape  in  the  frantic  greetings 
which  called  her  to  the  front  again  and  again.  But  the 
three  in  the  box  were  silent.  Bellamy  stood  back  in  the 
shadows.  Laverick  and  Zoe  seemed  suddenly  to  become 
immersed  in  themselves.  Bellamy  threw  open  the  door 
of  the  box  and  pointed  outside. 

"At  Luigi's  in  half-an-hour,"  said  he  softly.    "You  will 
excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes  ?     I  am  going  to  Louise." 


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Awakening  of  Helen  Richie,  The.    By  Margaret  Deland. 

Barrier,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Bar  20.     By  Clarence  E.   Mulford. 

Bar-20   Days.     By   Clarence  E.   Mulfird. 

Battle  Ground,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Beau    Brocade.      By  Baroness  Orczy. 

Bcechy.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Bella    Donna.     By  Robert  Hichens. 

Beloved  Vagabond,  The.    By  William  J.  Locke. 

Ben    Blair.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Best  Man,  The.    By  Harold  McGrath. 

Beth   Norvell.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Betrayal,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Better  Man,  The.     By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Beulah.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Bill  Toppers,  The.    By  Andre  Castaigne. 

Blaze  Derringer.     By  Eugene  P.  Lyle.  Jr. 

Bob  Hampton  of  Placer.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Bob.  Son  of  Battle.     By  Alfred  Ollivant. 

Brass   Bowl,   The.     By  Lcuis  Joseph  Vance. 

Bronze  Bell,  The.     By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Butterfly  Man,  The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

By  Right  of  Purchase..  By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Cab   No.  44.     By  R.   F.  Foster. 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The.    By  Harold  Bell   Wright. 

Call  of  the  Blood,  The.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

Cape  Cod   Stories.     By  Joseph  C.Lincoln. 

Cap'n    Erl.     By  Joseph    C.    Lincoln. 

Captain   Warren's  Wards.     By  Joseph  C.   Lincoln. 

Caravaners,  The.     By  the  author  of   "Elizabeth  and  Her  German 

Garden." 

Cardigan.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Carlton  Case,  The.     By  Ellery  H.  Clark. 
Car  of  Destiny.  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Carpet    From    Bagdad,    the.      By   Harold    MarOrath. 
Cash    Intrigue,  The.     By  George  Randolph   Ch.-sror 
Casting  Away  of  Mrs.  Leeks  and  Mrs.  Aleshine.  Frank  S.  Stockton 
Castle  by  the  Sea,  The.     By  H.  B.  Marriot  "Watson. 
Challoners,   The.     By  E.  F.  Benson. 
Chaperon,  The,     B"  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
City  of  Six,  The.    By  C.  L.  Canfield. 


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Circle,  The.     By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston  (author  of  "Th«  Mas- 

querader,"    "The  Gambler.") 

Colonial   Free  Lance,  A.     By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 
Conspirators,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Cynthia  of  the  Minute.     By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Dan   Merrithew.     By  Lawrence  Perry. 
Day  of  the  Dog,  The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 
Depot  Master,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Derelicts.     By  William  J.   Locke. 
Diamond    Master,   The.      By  Jacques  Futrelle. 
Diamonds  Cut  Paste.     By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 
Divine  Fire,  The.     By  May  Sinclair. 
Dixie  Hart.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 
Dr.  David.     By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 
Early  Bird.  The.     By  George  Randolph  Chester. 
Eleventh  Hour,  The.    By  David  Potter. 
Elizabeth  In  Rugen.  (By  the  author  of  "Elizabeth  and  Her  German 

Garden.") 

Elusive  Isabel.     By  Jacques  Futrelle. 
Elusive  Pimpernel,  The.     By  Baroness  Orczy. 
Enchanted  Hat,  The.     By  Harold  McQrath. 
Excuse   Me.     By  Rupert  Hughes. 
54-40  or  Fight.     By  Emerson  Hough. 
Fighting  Chance,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Flamsted   Quarries.     By  Mary  E.  Waller. 
Flying   Mercury,  The.     By  Eleanor  M.  Ingram. 
For  a  Maiden  Brave.    By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 
Four  Million,  The.     By  O.  Henry. 
Four  Pool's  Mystery,  The.     By  Jean  Webster. 
Fruitful  Vine,  The.     By  Robert  Hichens. 
Canton  &  Co.    By  Arthur  J.  Eddy. 
Gentleman   of  France,  A.     By  Stanley  Weyman. 
Gentleman.  The.     By  Alfred  Ollivant. 

Get-Rlck-Qulck-Wallingford.     By  George  Randolph  Chester. 
Gilbert  Neal.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 
Girl  and  the  Bill,  The.    By  Bannister  Merwin. 
Girl  from  His  Town,  The.    By  Marie  Van  Vorst. 
Girl  Who  Won,  The.     By  Beth  Ellis. 
Glory  of  Clementina,  The.     By  William  J.  Locke. 
Glory  of  the  Conquered,  The.     By  Susan  Glaspell. 
God's  Good   Man.     By  Marie  Corelli. 
Going  Some.    By  Rex  Beach. 
Golden  Web,  The.     By  Anthony  Partridge. 
Green   Patch,  The.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 
Happy  Island  (sequel  to  "Uncle  William).     By  Jennette  Lee. 
Hearts  and  the  Highway.    By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 
Held  for  Orders.     By  Frank  H.  Spearman. 
Hidden   Water.     Bv  Dane  Coolidge. 
Highway  of  Fate.  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 
Homesteaders,  The.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 
Honor  of  the  Big  Snows,  The.     By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 
Hopalong  Cassldy.      By  Clarence  E.  Mulford, 
Household  of  Peter,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 
House  of  Mystery,  The.     By  Will  Irwln. 
House  of  the  Lost  Court,  The.    By  C.  N.  Williamson. 
House  of  the  Whispering  Pines,  The.     By  Anna  Katherine  Green. 


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House  on   Cherry   Street,   The.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

How   Leslie   Loved.     By  Ann**  Warner. 

Husbands  of   Edith,   The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Idols.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Illustrious    Prince,   The.       By   E.    Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Imprudence  of   Prue,  The.     By  Sophie  Fisher. 

Inez.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Infelice.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Initials  Only.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

In  Defiance  of  the  King.     By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 

Indifference  of  Juliet,    The.     By   Grace  S.   Richmond. 

In  the  Service  of  the  Princess.     By  Henry  C.  Rowland. 

Iron   Woman,  The.     By  Margaret  Deland. 

Ishmael.     (Illustrated.)     By  Mrs.  Southworth. 

Island  of  Regeneration,  The.     By     Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Jack  Spurlock,    Prodigal.     By  Horace  Lorimer. 

Jane  Cable.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon  . 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Jude  the  Obsoure.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Keith  of  the   Border.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Key  to  the  Unknown,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Kingdom  of  Earth,  The.     By  Anthony  Partridge. 

King   Spruce.     By   Holman   Day. 

Ladder  of  Swords,  A.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Lady  Merton,  Colonist.     By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 

Lady  of  Big  Shanty,  The.     By  Berkeley  F.  Smith. 

Langford  of  the  Three  Bars.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 

Land   of   Long  Ago,  The.     By  Eliza  Calvert  Hall. 

Lane  That   Had   No  Turning,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Last  Trail,  The.     By  Zane  Grey. 

Last  Voyage  of  the  Donna  Isabel,  The.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Leavenworth  Case,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Lin   McLean.     By  Owen  Wister. 

Little   Brown  Jug  at   Klldare,  The.     By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

Loaded    Dice.      By  Ellery  H.   Clarke. 

Lord  Loveland  Discovers  America.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Lorlmer  of  the  Northwest.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Lorraine.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Lost  Ambassador,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Love   Under  Fire.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Loves  of  Miss  Anne,  The.     By  S.  R.  Crockett. 

Macarla.     (Illustrated  Erlition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Mademoiselle   Celeste.     By  Adele   Ferguson   Knight. 

Maid  at  Arms,   The.     By  Robert  W.   Chambers. 

Maid  of  Old   New  York,  A.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Maid  of  the  Whispering   Hills,   The.     By  Vlngie  Roe. 

Maids  of  Paradise,  The.      By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Making  of   Bobby  Burnlt.  The.     By  George  Randolph  Chester. 

Mam'   Linda.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Man  Outside,  The.      By  Wyndl.am  Martyn. 

Man   In  the  Brown   Derby,  The.     By  Wells  Hastings. 

Marriage  a  la  Mode.     By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 

Marriage  of  Theodora,  The.     By  Molly  Elliott  Seawell. 

Marriage  Under  the  Terror,  A.    By  Patricia  Wentworth. 

Master  Mummer,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Masters  of  the  Wheatlands.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 


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Max.     By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock   Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Millionaire  Baby,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Missioner,    The.     By   E.    Phillips   Oppenheim. 

Miss  Selina   Uue.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Mistress  of  Brae  Farm,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Money   Moon,  The.     By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Motor  Maid,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Much  Ado  About  Peter.    By  Jean  Webster. 

Mr.   Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

My  Brother's  Keeper.     By  Charles  Tenny  Jackson. 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

My  Lady  Caprice  (author  of  the  "Broad  Higway")-    Jeffery  Farnol. 

My  Lady  of  Doubt.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the  North.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My   Lady  of  the  South.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Mystery  Tales.     By  Edgar  Allen  Poe. 

Nancy  Stair.     By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane. 

Ne'er- Do- Well,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

No  Friend  Like  a  Sister.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Officer  666.     By  Barton  W.  Currie  and  Augustln  McHugh. 

One   Braver  Thing.     By  Richard  Dehan. 

Order   No.   11.     By  Caroline  Abbot  Stanley. 

Orphan,   The.    By  Clarence  E.   Mulford. 

Out  of  the  Primitive.     By  Robert  Ames  Bennett. 

Pam.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pam  Decides.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pardners.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Passage  Perilous,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Passers   By.    By  Anthony  Partridge. 

Paternoster  Ruby,  The.     By  Charles  Edmonds  Walk. 

Patience  of  John   Moreland,  The.     By  Mary  Dillon. 

Paul   Anthony,  Christian.     By  Hiram  W.  Hays. 

Phlliip  Steele.     By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Phra  the  Phoenician.     By  Edwin  Lester  Arnold. 

Plunderer,  The.     By  Roy  Norton. 

Pole  Baker.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Politician,  The.     By  Edith  Huntington  Mason. 

Polly  of  the  Circus.    By  Margaret  Mayo. 

Pool  of  Flame,  The.    By  Louis  Joseh  Vance. 

Poppy..  By  Cynthia  Stockley. 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The.     By  Grace  McGowan  Cooke. 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.    By  E.  Phillis  Oppenheim. 

Prince  or  Chauffeur.     By  Lawrence  Perry. 

Princess  Dehra,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Princess  Passes.  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Princess  Virginia,  The.       By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Prisoners  of  Chance.     By  Randan  Parrish. 

Prodigal  Son,  The.    By  Hall  Caine. 

Purple  Parasol,  The.      By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 


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